


Hell Cat

by Mordhena



Series: A Grief Observed [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Brother/Brother Incest, Demons, Explicit Sexual Content, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Incest, M/M, Native American/First Nations Legends & Lore, Rating: NC17, SNAFU, Self-Harm, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15901278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: Sam and Dean continue to deal with the fall-out from their recent choices and negotiate the new territory of their relationship, all whilst hunting a demon cat.  So just your basic SNAFU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe. **
> 
> **_ A/N: The story also deals with an incestuous relationship between Sam and Dean, (as tagged) so if that's not your thing you may want to pass this one by.  _ **

Sam, what d'you make of this?" Dean Winchester threw a newspaper down on the table where Sam was just finishing his breakfast.  
  
Looking at his brother across the table, Sam frowned and then picked up the paper, scanning the headline.  
  
**BIG CAT SIGHTING POSSIBLE LINK IN HIKER'S DEATH**  
  
Sam shook his head with a snort. "Just your typical tabloid headline," he said, laying the paper down.  
  
"No, read the story." Dean pushed the paper towards him again. "It sounds…interesting."  
  
Sighing, Sam picked up the paper and skimmed the couple of paragraphs. "Okay, so a hiker goes missing in the woods, body found two days later, paw prints at the scene, something big…a cougar, maybe?" He looked at Dean.  
  
Dean just raised his eyebrows, looking at Sam in silence.  
  
"So. You wanna check it out," Sam said after a moment.  
  
Dean smiled and stood up. "Let's get on the road!"  
  
With a sigh, Sam Winchester got up, snatched his paper cup full off coffee off the table and followed his brother out to the car.   
  
"What's the matter, Sammy," Dean glanced at the younger Winchester as he slipped behind the wheel. "You scared?" He asked with a barely suppressed grin.  
  
"Naw, you know. Cat's make me allergic is all," Sam replied.  
  
Dean laughed, putting the key into the impala's ignition.   
  
"Hey, I seem to be the one saving your sorry ass more often than not, So can it with the 'scared, Sammy?' Bullshit!" Sam glared at him.  
  
"Yeah, you just keep tellin' yourself that, Sammy." Dean revved the Impala and grinned when the engine responded to his touch. "Awww yeah, talk to me Baby!" He glanced at Sam. "Listen to'er Sam! She's just purrrin' like a kitten!"  
  
"For God's sake, Dean, Grow up! Let's just drive, okay?"  
  
Still laughing, Dean shifted into gear and dropped the clutch screaming out onto the road in a cloud of smoke and dust. "You know I think she goes better since I rebuilt her. The demon just mighta done me a favour, totalling her like that."  
  
"Yeah, sure. Lucky he didn't total us along with it."  
  
Dean shot Sam a glance and his smile faded. "Yeah," he said. He went quiet, rubbing his hand across his ribs, feeling the raised, healing cuts through the fabric of his shirt.  _Who's to say he didn't?_  
  
"Are you okay?" Sam asked.  
  
"What?" Dean shot his brother a glance, putting his hand back on the wheel. "I thought I told you not to keep askin' if I'm okay?"  
  
Sam sighed and shook his head. "Forget it."  
  
"Consider it forgotten." Dean pressed the pedal to the floor and let out a yell when the Impala roared in response.   
  
<hr>  
  
Dean flashed a badge and a winning smile. "Names Ford," he said "This is my … partner, Hammil. We're with the US Wildlife Service. We heard you've got yourself some kind of cat on the loose?" he raised an eyebrow at the ranger. "They sent us out to take a look, maybe help you hunt it down."  
  
Behind him Sam nodded, trying to look smooth. He just didn't know sometimes why he kept playing this game. Every week a different persona, more lies. He hated it.  
  
"There's not a lot I can tell you boys," the ranger said. "We found the body, pretty torn up." He looked away. "Poor kid wouldn't have stood a chance against an animal big enough to do that…" He met Dean's eyes. "We thought it was a grizzly, but then, the paw-prints…"  
  
"Could we see the place where it happened?" Sam stepped forward.  
  
"Sure, but there's not much to see anymore, there's been pretty heavy rain since the incident." He turned and led the way up a fairly steep trail until they came to a clearing.  
  
Dean took out his EMF reader and scanned the area, keeping his body between the device and Sam, who kept the ranger in conversation at the edge of the clearing. Shaking his head, Dean stared at the reader in frustration. If there had been any spiritual activity here, the weather conditions since had taken care of any evidence. Scowling, he put the device into his pocket and studied the ground.  
  
He was about to give up the search when something caught his eye. He picked up the small metallic object and frowned at it for a moment before slipping this, too, into a pocket and straightening up.  
  
He walked back to Sam and the ranger. "Well, like you said. Not much to see here." He smiled. "It was probably just a freak occurrence," he shook hands with the ranger and then handed him a small card. "Would you mind, giving us a call if you have any more trouble?"  
  
After taking their leave of the ranger, the Winchesters returned to the Impala.  
  
"You sure gave him the brush off," Sam said, raising an eyebrow at his brother.   
  
"Yeah, there's nothing here," Dean said as he guided the car along the side road. "I didn't detect any EMF activity. The rain probably disturbed things too much." Dean reached into his pocket and took out the small object he'd taken from the site. "Did find this, though-whaddya make of it?"  
  
Sam took the small shiny thing and turned it over in his fingers. "It's gold," he said. "Probably some kind of charm, once, but it's…been melted."  
  
"Yeah." Dean frowned, staring out of the windshield as he turned onto the road.  
  
"What would there be up there, hot enough to melt gold."  
  
"Beats me," Dean replied. "But I bet your vision's got something to do with it."  
  
"My vision was about a girl, Dean. This hiker was a dude."  
  
"Which means the girl you saw in your vision might still be alive." Dean glanced at Sam. "We might still have time to save her."  
  
"How?" Sam shook his head. "We don't even have a clue where she is!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe.**

Dean sat at the small table in yet another roadside diner, turning the small piece of molten gold over and over in his fingers, staring at it as though he thought it might speak and tell him what had happened to it. He frowned and looked up when Sam spoke.  
  
"Something pretty hot would have to hit it to do that," he said, going back to their earlier conversation in the car.   
  
Dean nodded. "Man, I don't know what it is, or what happened to make it like this, but I got an uneasy feeling it's connected to this case." He put the little object down and leaned his elbows on the table. "What bothers me though…I didn't see any traces of scorching or fire up there. You talked to the ranger; did he mention anything about a brush fire, or whether the kid they found was burned at all?"  
  
"No," Sam replied. "Nothing like that, the kid was torn up pretty bad, paw prints at the scene but they vanish not far from the body. No fire, no lightning.  
  
Dean frowned. "I don't like this, Sammy."  
  
"And what, you  _like_  everything else we hunt?" Sam laughed.  
  
Dean grinned at his brother and got to his feet, tossing his crumpled napkin onto his plate. "Ok, fair point."  
  
"Still, I understand what you mean," Sam added. "Never was keen on animal monsters myself. Where are we headed?"   
  
"Back to town, I want to check the local library, see what we can find in the archives about cases involving a cat."  
  
"Yeah, we should look for newspaper articles about hikers or anyone else who have been attacked, see if we can find any pattern." Sam sank low in the passenger seat and settled to sleep. "Wake me when we get there, would ya?"  
  
Tossing his brother a glance as he started the car and shifted gears, Dean muttered: "Great." He set the car on the road back into town.  
  
The Impala rolled back into the little town, just a little after one in the afternoon. It was like any of a thousand little country towns they had seen, Dean thought as he drove along the 'originally' named, 'Main Street.' He glanced over at Sam as he stirred and sat up. For a moment, Dean wondered if Sam had really been sleeping at all.   
  
"Is the library marked on that map you got from the diner?"  
  
"Make a right, at the traffic light" Sam replied. "It's on the left hand side, after the first cross street."  
  
Nodding, Dean followed his brother's directions and they pulled up a short time later in the parking lot of a small library." He looked at his brother. "Dude, I can just see this place providing hours of fun and excitement for the kids of this town."  
  
Sam grinned. "Just because you'd rather go to a night club-other people like to _read_ , Dean." He folded the map and stowed it in the glove compartment. "Maybe we should split up? We can cover more ground that way."  
  
Dean frowned at his brother and then looked away. "Sure," He said. That was at least the third time that day that Sam had made some excuse to avoid Dean's company. He got out of the car and closed the door with rather more force than necessary. "I'll scout the local cops," he said. "Meet you back here in an hour?"  
  
"Okay," Sam said. He slung his laptop bag over his shoulder and headed into the library.  
  
Watching his brother walk away, Dean scowled. He turned and stalked across the road. The police station was a little way up the street on the opposite side. Well within walking distance and besides, he wanted to clear his head.  
  
\--  
  
Sam made his way into the library and approached the counter where an elderly woman with silver hair was seated at a computer. He cleared his throat and smiled when the woman looked up at him.  
  
"Hi," he said. "I was wondering if you could help me out?"   
  
"I can try, young man." The woman got up slowly and came closer to the counter. "What do you need?"  
  
\--   
  
Dean walked into the police station and smiled at the young rookie cop behind the desk. "Hey," He stopped in front of the desk and turned on his most charming smile. "Name's Dean…Hunter, I'm a writer. Working on a book of local history for this town--the county. I was hoping I might be able to speak with someone about the case of a boy who was killed by a wild cat or something, about a month back?"  
  
The rookie looked him over, seeming to buy the story. "Are you connected with the family?"  
  
"No, no nothing like that. I was just in this area looking up local history and I came across the story. I thought it might make an interesting addition to my book Add a little drama, something like that." Dean smiled.  
  
Nodding, the cop walked across the office to a door that led out back. "I'll see if I can find someone to help you," he said.  
  
Waiting in the office, Dean looked around; hoping that he might spot anything of use, but it was all bland and business out here.  _Man, these country sheriffs all have the same taste in décor_. He stifled a yawn and then turned quickly when a female voice said: "Mr Hunter?"  
  
"That's me," Dean flashed the woman cop a grin, letting the smile touch his eyes with as much warmth as possible.  
  
\--  
  
Sam was settled in at the back of the library, surrounded by books, old newspapers and some archive boxes that the elderly librarian had hunted out for him.  
  
"That's all we have, dear, on the history of the town," the woman said.  
  
Smiling up at her, Sam used what Dean called his puppy-dog eyes to disarm and charm her. "Thanks…hey, do you know anything about sightings of big cats around here, you know, cougar attacks and the likes?"  
  
"Oh, there've been cat attacks around here since before I was born…mostly cattle, but we've lost towns folk…"  
  
"Really? What kind of cats, do you know? Mountain Lions."  
  
"Well, I'd assume so. I've never seen one myself, but folks do tell of cougars around here." She smiled and gestured towards the front counter where some young people waited to check out books. "If you'll excuse me, young man?"  
  
Sam nodded and reached for a large leather bound volume, pulling it towards him and flipping through the pages. He stopped at a page with a large map on it, studying it and jotting down some notes.  
  
\--  
  
The female cop looked Dean over and raised an eyebrow, seemingly un-phased by his boyish charm and good looks. "I'm Dianne Swift," she said. "I hear you're researching a book?" Another shrewd glance up and down his frame.  
  
"That's right; I'm kinda compiling a history of this county. I read a newspaper report about a hiker who…"  
  
"Was killed on the trail outside town," Officer Swift nodded. "I was the investigating officer on that scene. I can't really tell you much that you wouldn't have seen in the papers. It was straight forward. Kid was out on the trail near dusk. The animal took an opportunity."  
  
"This boy, if I recall, his name was Raymond?" Dean continued when the officer nodded. "Was he a local boy?"  
  
"Yes, his family have lived here for generations. They all know the area and that trail. I'm surprised that Raymond was out at that time of day. Most locals try to be off those trails well before sundown.  
  
"Why is that?" Dean asked.  
  
Officer Swift scoffed. "We live in an area where wildcats are known to attack cattle," she said. "I'm sure a smart writer like you can figure it out."  
  
"Uh-huh," Dean paused in thought for a moment. "So…you were at the scene the day this incident occurred. Can you tell me? Was there a brushfire in that area, or a lightning strike on or near that day?"  
  
"Mr Hunter, this case was just as I said. Open and shut case of wild animal mauling. Not that I see the relevance-there were no storms in the area until three days after the incident, and we haven't had a brushfire on that trail for nearly two years." She glanced at her watch. "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me. I have work to do."  
  
"Of course, sorry." Dean flashed her another smile. "You know how it is with us writers, always lookin' for something to make a story a little more dramatic." He took a step towards the door. "Thanks for your time, Officer."  
  
Walking back across the street, Dean gave a low whistle.  _Freakin' ice maiden!_  He frowned in thought as he made his way to the Impala.  _So we've got a cat stalking and killing locals who ought to know better than bein' out in the dark, a piece of molten gold that miss efficiency in there completely missed in her 'investigation,' no clue how the gold got melted and no closer to finding out what is doing this. Dean snorted. All in all, a fine day's wasted effort! I hope Sam turned up something useful._  
  
\--  
  
Sam frowned over the map in the leather bound book then reached for his father's journal. Leafing through the pages, he stopped at a page with a set of coordinates scribbled on it.   
  
Referring back to the map, Sam pinpointed the coordinates.  _Well, that's interesting,_  he thought.  _Dad thought there was something going on here too._  
  
Sam glanced at his watch and shut down the laptop, returning the books to the shelf before he left the library.  
  
Dean was walking across the street as Sam stepped outside. Sam climbed into the car. "Find anything?"  
  
Slamming the car door as he got in behind the wheel, Dean shook his head. "Nothing worth mentioning, except a local cop who misses vital clues," he said. "What'd you get--please tell me you found somethin'."  
  
"Uh-huh," Sam grinned at his brother. "Blew you off, did she?" He shifted position so he could open the lap-top between them on the seat.  
  
Dean scowled. "Just talk, Sammy."  
  
Sam sniggered and ducked his head at the look Dean gave him. "Well, found out there have been big cat attacks around here for at least a hundred or so years which the folks around here seem to live quite comfortably with." He shook his head. "But here," Sam tapped the keyboard, bringing up a map he downloaded from the library computer. He pointed to a place on the map. "I recognised these coordinates from Dad's journal. There's supposed to have been an Native American burial ground. It's about thirty miles east of here."  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes at the mention of burial grounds.   
  
"Dad thought that there was something here, but that's not all." Sam pointed to another spot on the map. "I found some newspaper references to bones thought to have come from a settlement, been dug up here when they were layin' the freeway-and guess what-these towns are lying right in between those two places."  
  
"Impressive," Dean said. "Anything else?"  
  
"Cat attacks have doubled since they opened up that road."  
  
Dean quirked an eyebrow and nodded. "Looks like you had more luck with the library than I had with Officer Frigidaire."  
  
Sam merely nodded, "So now what?"  
  
"You hungry?" Dean reached for the ignition. "I could kill a grande right about now."  
  
Sam grinned. "And we'd better find the location of the nearest hotel. He absently scratched at his right arm.  
  
"Yeah, looks like we might be stickin' around here for a few," Dean said. "Leave that alone, Sammy," he added, glancing at Sam's hands. "The doctor told you not to be tearin' at it if it itched after the cast came off.  
  
Sam closed the laptop and slipped it back into its leather bag. "So what're we dealing   
with? Vengeful spirit? I mean the dug up bones-probably were on sacred ground.  
  
"Could be," Dean replied. "There are still things that don't add up, though. The cops told me there was no sign of a lightning strike up there the day that Raymond was mauled. The last brushfire was more than two years ago. I have to wonder if that charm we found was even his, or if it's unrelated?" He frowned, pulling out of the car park.  
  
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "And there were cat attacks before the bones were found. Just not as frequent."  
  
Dean sighed. "I'm getting' a headache. How far was that diner, anyway?" He strained his eyes ahead, looking for the little stop he knows he saw.  
  
"About another mile," Sam replied and there's a motel four miles after that," he referred to the map he'd snagged from the diner which was proving very worthwhile.  
  
Dean walked into the motel room and sank down on a bed to take off his shoes. His brows drew together in a scowl, and he let it linger there when Sam came into the room.  
  
"What? We've stayed in worse," Sam said, sitting on the other bed and untying his shoe laces. "Left or right?" he asked Dean.  
  
"I'll take left." Dean's voice was edged with ice. "It's nearest to the door."  
  
Sam nodded. Shrugging off his jacket, he moved to the small table in the corner of the room and opened up the laptop, pulling up some of the research he'd saved from the library. "Newspapers say 18 attacks and disappearances in the last ten years," he said. A moment later, Sam sighed. "These sightings cover a thirty-mile radius. That's one helluvva big area."   
  
Dean rubbed the palms of both hands against his eyes. "Shut that thing down, Sam."  
  
Sam looked up, frowning at his brother. "Somethin' wrong?"  
  
"I dunno, is there?" Irritation crackled like electric current along the edge of Dean's voice. He stood up. "I'm tired. I'm gonna shower." He got up and headed for the bathroom.  
  
"What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sam got up and blocked his brother's path.  
  
Dean met Sam's gaze, his own hazel eyes cold and hard. "Maybe you should try and figure it out, Sam?"  
  
"Dean?" Confusion was plain in Sam's expression. He blocked Dean when his brother again attempted to head for the bathroom. "Dean, talk to me."  
  
Dean scoffed. "Oh  _now_  you wanna talk?"  
  
"No, actually I think I want to do this." Sam leaned in, ghosting his lips against his brother's mouth.   
  
Dean accepted the kiss passively, making no move to deepen it and Sam pulled back. He sighed. "Are you gonna tell me what's biting your ass or are we just gonna stand here starin' at each other?"  
  
"I don't believe you!" Dean shook his head and let out a breath. "You've been holdin' me at arms length all day, pulling that power nap stunt on the way back to town after we went to the hiking trail…then your little lone library excursion sendin' me off on a wild goose chase with the cops who didn't tell me anythin' I don't already know. Now this…" Dean gestured at the room. "And you wanna know what's bitin'  _my_  ass?"  
  
"What are you talkin' about?" Sam looked at him as though he had suddenly sprouted a second head. "I didn't-shit that was only to get a rise out of you--and if you wanted to stay with me at the library then why the hell didn't you say so?"  
  
"Sam, we've been sleeping in the same bed for fucking  _weeks_!" Dean snapped. "If I'd wanted  _that_  to change, I woulda said so." He paused and then pounced on something else. "What the fuck do you mean you wanted to get a rise outta me?"  
  
"Oh for god's sakes, Dean, you drivin' me sleepin.'" Sam shook his head. "And this was the only room they had, two queens, no kings okay? I never thought that we would end up in separate beds!"  
  
Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line, suddenly feeling like a first class idiot. "You know, if I'd booked the room and they only had two queens instead of a king? I think I might've taken the time to let you know, before giving you the keys and letting you just walk on in here and find it out." He averted his eyes and brushed past Sam. "I'm getting a shower."  
  
"We're…" Sam sighed. "Oh, fine, you do that." Sam said. He went to the duffel and grabbed out the salt, getting ready to lay the salt lines. "This gets more fucking complicated every day," he muttered.  
  
Dean walked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, starting up the shower, adding plenty of hot water to the mix. Stripping out of his clothes, he got under the steaming hot spray. He ducked his head, leaning his hands on the wall either side of the shower rose and closed his eyes. The water was almost painfully hot but Dean didn't adjust it. He let it massage his neck and shoulders.  _I will never understand him as long as I live!_  
  
\--  
  
Sam winced when the bathroom door slammed. He finished laying salt on the doors and windows and turned to look at the two queen beds.  _What's he gonna do, kill me?_  Sam spent the next minute or two pushing the beds together and then went to the mini-bar and grabbed out a beer. He flicked on the television, settling on the end of the bed to watch the local news station.  
  
  
\--  
  
Eyes closed and head bowed, Dean let out a long breath. The water felt blissful on his achingly tense shoulders and he felt the headache he was developing fade away. _I dunno if we're doin' the right thing, Dad. Maybe all this has just complicated things._  He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.  _I miss you, Dad--I wish--I wish we could just have a beer and talk, and…_  Dean let the tears fall, but kept it quiet, silent sobs wracking his lean frame.

  
\--   
  
The news channel didn't have anything of note to say, and Sam sighed, reaching for his father's journal.  _One seriously screwed up set of lives here, Dad-what are we supposed to do-ain't like we can share this with anyone. You saw to that. Can't have anyone cause it makes us too vulnerable-fair game. I'm so fucking sick of fighting._  
  
Sam tossed the journal aside and got up, stripping off his shirt.  _We have us though, and no-ones here to say it's wrong.  
_  
"Hey, Sam?" Dean called from the bathroom. "Would you hand my shaving gear in here?"  
  
"Yeah, Dean, I'm comin'." Sam grabbed Dean's razor and a can of shaving foam out of the duffel and went into the bathroom.   
  
Dean looked like hell. His skin was red from an obviously too hot shower, his eyes looked reddened as well. Sam draped himself over his brother's shoulders, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror. He handed the razor and foam to Dean, and then let his eyes trail down across his chest, to linger on the newly made scars across the right hand side Dean's ribs.  
  
"Thanks," Dean said. He followed Sam's gaze in the mirror. "I'm okay, Sammy," Dean smiled. "Just gonna shave, promise."  
  
Sam's green eyes, misted with pain, met Dean's in the mirror. "It's just us, Dean." He turned his brother around, lips seeking Dean's mouth in a tender, searching kiss.  
  
Dean slipped his arms around Sam's waist, giving himself into the kiss this time. He parted his lips, letting Sam's tongue into his mouth, and closed his eyes. Reaching behind himself, he dropped the razor onto the vanity and pulled Sam closer.  
  
Sam gave a quiet moan of need, pulling his mouth away and trailing kisses along Dean's jaw to his neck, breathing in the fresh soapy smell of Dean's skin, sliding his hands down Dean's back to rest on his hips.  
  
Dean lifted his chin, exposing his neck to Sam's teeth and tongue, pressing forward to meet Sam's body when the younger Winchester ground his hips against him. He reached for Sam, cupping his face and pulling him back into a passionate kiss, growling into Sam's mouth. His cock stirred and his heart began to beat raggedly. He slid his hands down to Sam's ass, kneading the firm buttocks through his brother's jeans, and pulling Sam hard against his groin, letting him feel the effect that his kisses and slow bump and grind routine were having on him.  
  
They broke apart, panting, eyes wide as they stared at each other for a moment. Dean flicked his tongue across his lower lip, watching as Sam's eyelids fell to hood lust darkened eyes.  
  
"Want you, Dean," Sam panted. "Anything, ok?"  
  
Dean shivered, breathing hard, his cock twitching in response to the huskiness of Sam's voice. He pushed against Sam with his hips, slowly marching his brother backwards out of the bathroom, never breaking the eye contact. "Tell me what you want," he purred.  
  
Sam blushed, but he didn't break the eye contact. "I want to make it good for you. Slow."  
  
"You want it slow, Sammy? You want it sweet?" Dean bit his own bottom lip and then soothed it, letting Sam see the tip of his tongue as he ran it across his lips.  
  
"Fuck, Dean…" Sam pulled him close and claimed his mouth again, kissing him hard, tongue-fucking his mouth, while his fingers worked at loosening the towel from around his brother's hips.  
  
"Get down on your knees, Sammy." Dean broke their kiss, staring into Sam's eyes, his own, blown with passion. He heard the sharp intake of breath from his brother before Sam sank down in front of him, his eyes level with Dean's achingly hard cock. Dean moaned, closing his fingers around the thick shaft and began to pump himself slowly right in front of his brother's lips. He panted, watching Sam's reaction to watching him squeeze his own dick and run his hand up and down the hard shaft. A bead of precum collected at the tip and Dean placed the fingers of his free hand just under Sam's jaw, gently pulling him forward. "Taste me, Sammy…lick it."  
  
He felt the shudder that ran through Sam at his words, but his brother allowed himself to be guided by Dean's hand, parting his lips and putting his tongue out to flick, butterfly-soft across the tip, collecting the bead of fluid. Dean swallowed convulsively and whispered encouragement to Sam. "That's it, just like that, baby. When you're ready, take me in your mouth."  
  
Sam looked up at him through thick eyelashes and Dean just about lost it right there. He had to close his eyes, head thrown back for a moment while he fought for control. He cried out, and had to use every ounce of iron control he possessed to keep from thrusting himself right down Sam's throat when he felt those sweet lips close around the head of his cock. "Sam-Sammy-ohhh, Sam…" Dean crooned. He heard the hitch in Sam's breath, and sensed that his brother was really getting into this, a hunch that was proven when Sam relaxed his jaw, took a deep breath and slid his mouth down the length of the hot, throbbing shaft. "Holy fuck, Jesus, motherofgod," Dean whimpered. He put both hands on Sam's head for support, his knees going weak when Sam began to stroke back and forth on him, taking Dean deeper into his mouth with every forward stroke.  
  
"Sooo good, Sam…so fucking hot!" Dean whispered. He bucked his hips forward involuntarily when Sam, getting adventurous, took him deep and made the most amazing rippling movement of his tongue long the underside of Dean's cock. "Uh! Shiiit!" Dean panted, but was instantly aware when Sam backed off, laying his hands against Dean's thighs, his breathing erratic. Coming back to earth with an effort, Dean pulled out of Sam's mouth. "You okay, Bro?"  
  
"Fine, Dean-I'm fine," Sam said. He licked his lips and dashed tears away from his eyes.  
  
"Hey, talk to me, Sam." Dean went to his knees in front of the younger Winchester, realisation sinking in. "You gagged?"  
  
Sam nodded, averting his gaze. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay." Dean placed his fingers under Sam's cheek, making him look up. "It happens."  
  
"But you were getting so into it," Sam murmured. "And I stopped."  
  
"It's okay, Sammy, honest." Dean smiled at him. "You were doing great."  
  
"Was it-was I really good?"  
  
"Oh no, Babe, you were baaaad." Dean caught Sam in his arms, pulling him close and kissing him, thrusting his tongue into his brother's mouth, tasting him. "So bad-ass wicked!" he said against Sam's mouth.  
  
"I-want to finish it, Dean," Sam replied. "Let me?"  
  
"Yeah, but let's take this onto the bed, it'll be more comfortable." Dean got to his feet, helping Sam up. He kissed Sam again, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his brother's jeans, unhitching the buttons and pulling down his fly.  
  
"Lie down, Dean," Sam whispered. "I can do it." He began to strip out of his jeans and shorts, toeing off his trainers at the same time and then joined his brother on the bed. Sam laid down full length on top of Dean and humped his hips against Dean's body a few times before he began to kiss, lick and nibble his way downwards, blazing a teasing trail from Dean's throat to his chest, swirling his tongue around each nipple, raising the pink buds; swirling his tongue through Dean's navel, making him buck and cry out when strong white teeth nipped the tender flesh of his belly and slowly, but finally arriving at his groin.  
  
Sam nuzzled into the coarse, crisp hair that nested around his brother's cock. Taking the shaft in his hand, he lifted the head of Dean's cock to his lips, shooting his brother a heated glance before he swallowed Dean whole.  
  
Dean arched his back, careful this time though, not to thrust into Sam's mouth, letting his brother set the pace and how deeply he took Dean. He sobbed for breath when Sam responded by pulling back, sucking him from base to tip and then swallowed him again. "Fuck, Sam, you sure are a quick study!" He gasped, clawing his fingers into the bedclothes and uttering a string of unintelligible sounds when Sam moaned around him and then began to bob his head up and down, teasing with his tongue, alternately sucking, and then making that rippling motion of the tongue along the underside, rubbing the little ridge of flesh near the tip and driving Dean almost insane with lust all the while.  
  
"So close, Sammy!" Dean gasped.  
  
Sam responded by clamping his mouth tight around the shaft and slowly drawing back, lightly dragging his teeth along the shaft and pulling Dean's climax from him with a sultry growl.  
  
Dean came, long and hard, and better than he could remember coming for a very long time before. He came down slowly, relaxing from the rictus of orgasm, his breath evening out and his heart slowing until he felt settled enough to open his eyes. He looked down the length of his body in time to see Sam let his softening cock out from between his lips and swipe the back of a hand across his mouth.  
  
Dean grinned. "C'mere and kiss me, Sam."  
  
Sam went red. "With a mouthful of jizz? No way!"  
  
"Ah c'mon baby, kiss me, be a little dirty."  
  
Sam's eyelids fluttered down over his green eyes, but he scooted up along Dean's body. "Dirty?"  
  
"Yeah, everyone knows it's dirty to kiss a guy right after you drank his come," Dean said with a laugh. He captured Sam's mouth and kissed him deeply, teasing his lips apart and thrusting his tongue inside, tasting his essence on Sam's tongue. "Mmmmm, dirty," he purred. He kissed Sam again. "Filthy." Another kiss, this one deeper and longer before he pulled away. "Sexy."  
  
"Jerk," Sam muttered.  
  
"Oh yeah, Bitch!" Dean sucked Sam's bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it gently. " _My_  bitch," he growled. He rolled on top of Sam and ground his hips into Sam's groin. "My  _horny_ bitch." He grinned, trailing his hand down between their bodies to take Sam in hand. "Want me to do something about that for ya?"  
  
"Fuck, Dean!" Sam bucked, pressing into his hand, seeking the friction he needed to get release.  
  
"Whatcha want, little bro?"  
  
"C'mon, please…" Sam thrust into Dean's hand. "Help me out, here!"  
  
"Well, ya only hadda ask." Dean started to pump his brother's cock, his hand fisting up and down the shaft, eyes glued to Sam's face, watching the expressions of delighted ecstasy that chased each other across the younger Winchester's features.  
  
"Uh!" Sam grunted, straining for release. "Dean-Dean-Dean!"  
  
Biting down on his bottom lip, Dean pumped faster, watching Sam carefully and judging the moment, before he gave a twist of his wrist, bringing his thumb across the tip of Sam's cock and back in a quick-fire motion that brought Sam's hips up off the bed with a shout, warm come spurting over Dean's fingers and onto Sam's belly.   
  
_God, so fucking beautiful!_ Dean thought. He leaned down to claim Sam's mouth. "You're so goddamned hot when you come, Sammy. He released his hold on Sam's cock and moved to lie down, settling Sam's head on his shoulder, holding him close, stroking his back in lazy circles. He listened while Sam's breathing settled into the deep, even rhythm of sleep before he closed his eyes, nuzzling into Sam's hair before he let sleep claim him too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Parts of this chapter will make more sense if you have heard the song "If You Were Gay" from the Broadway puppet musical "Avenue Q" If you haven't heard it, you can hear it, and get a giggle from Sam and Dean by viewing this: https://youtu.be/eUrS-xkum7w
> 
> There is a mild crossover element to this fic. Extra points if you spot it and guess what other show is mentioned. (Not Muppets, Partridge Family, or Sesame Street)
> 
> * * *

Dean glanced at his brother as they cruised along the highway. He frowned. "What's that you're humming?"  
  
"Hm?" Sam looked over at him. "Oh!" He blushed. "Some stupid song that got stuck in my head. I don't even know where I heard it lately."  
  
"What song?" Dean quizzed, flicking his glance to the road for a second and then back to Sam.  
  
"Nah, nothin' it's just a stupid song."  
  
Dean tilted his head on the side, and smiled at his brother. "C'mon, spill."  
  
Sighing, Sam palmed his face. "Fine, but you asked for it. Okay?" He took a deep breath, looking uncomfortable and then began to sing. "Believe me, you really don't have to worry, I only wanna make you happy, but if you say hey go away I will…"  
  
"God, I feel sick!"  
  
Sam laughed, but kept singing. "But I think better still, I'd better stay around and love you; do you think I have a chance? Let me ask you to your face…"  
  
"Don't go there Sammy!" Dean glared.  
  
"No, you asked…I think I love you! I think I love you, so what am I so afraid of…"  
  
"Sam!"  
  
The younger Winchester rocked in his seat, laughing at Dean's discomfiture. "Ohh you hadda ask," he chortled.  
"Yeah, whatever!" Dean reached for the radio, tapping the on switch. He twiddled with the tuner until a station came through clearly.  
  
… _If you were gay, that'd be okay, I mean cuz hey, I like you anyway!_...  
  
The brothers looked at each other in stunned silence for a moment before Sam completely busted up with laughter. "Kermit! What are you on?"  
  
"Naw, sounds more like Bert and Ernie to me," Dean replied.  
  
"Oh my god, you're kidding me right? Sesame Street would never go there."  
  
"C'mon Sam, are you serious? Didn't you ever watch the Muppet show? I mean, talk about subtext!"  
  
"What? No way! Hensen's puppets were always straight up."  
  
Dean shook his head. "Hell, Kermit and Ms Piggy practically made out on screen a hundred times."  
  
"Yeah, but that's different. Straight is okay." Sam shook his head with a grin. I did have my doubts about Fozzie bear, though. And what was his name? The dude with the chicken fetish…Gonzo…man, he was weird!"  
  
The song on the radio ended and Dean made a face. "Never woulda figured to hear a song like that on one of these backwoods stations."  
  
Sam chuckled. "Me neither."  
  
They fell silent for a mile or two, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Dean was the first to break it.  
  
"We were happy, back then, weren't we, Sammy?" He glanced at his brother.  
  
"Happy?" Sam scoffed. "When? I don't ever remember a time that I wasn't looking to 'fight' the bogeyman under my bed, Dean, just so Dad would think I was brave."  
  
Dean shook his head. "Forget it, Sam-it doesn't matter."  
  
Reaching across the car, Sam laid a hand on his brother's thigh. "You and I had each other. I was happy about that. Truth is, Dean, if it wasn't for you I'd have gone insane. Let's not pretend when we were kids it was a happy childhood, though."  
  
Dean shot the younger Winchester a wistful glance. "There were times since that we've had some laughs." Dean said. 'I miss them like hell,' he added to himself.  
  
"Sure." Sam agreed. "And times just recently that have been…" He let out a breath between pursed lips. "Hot!" Scooting across the seat, Sam very deliberately swiped his tongue across Dean's earlobe, and then blew on it."  
  
"Uh, Sam? Drivin' here," Dean said. He bit down on his lower lip willing his suddenly very alert cock to lie down.  
  
"So-last night? I guess it went down okay?"  
  
Dean laughed. "Nice turn of phrase there, dude."  
  
"What?" Sam assumed an expression of offended innocence which was quickly swallowed up by a wicked grin. "I guess you could say that last night was the first time since I broke my arm, that I had you licked, huh bro?"  
  
"Ohh, you're real clever, Sammy!" Dean grinned, shifting in his seat a little. Damn but these jeans were tight all of a sudden.  
  
Waggling his eyebrows, Sam stretched out on the seat, splaying his legs wide and letting one hand lazily stray to his own thigh, tracing circles over the denim with his fingertips. He watched his brother squirm. "I guess I just got a taste of what's to-come in future, huh?"  
  
Dean licked his lips and then turned his eyes to the road, quickly correcting the car which had strayed a little towards the wrong lane. He shook his head. "Sam…" He began and then muttered a curse when Sam shot him a look from under thick dark eyelashes.   
  
"So, how far to the last known sighting of the cat?" Sam's tone was almost conversational, but his actions had Dean's heart make a back flip as Sam's hand slid further along his own thigh, his thumb tracing over the obvious bulge in his jeans.  
  
"Cat?" Dean said vaguely. "Oh! The cat, yeah about twelve miles." He closed his eyes for a moment, and then snapped them open. _Mind on driving, mind on driving-hands on the wheel!_  He told himself. He winced, biting his lip and reaching between his legs to try and ease some room into the tight denim.  
  
"I guess we should find a place soon, to bed down for the night?" Sam palmed his erection through his jeans.  
  
Glancing at the angle of the sun, Dean gave a slight shake of his head. "It's not time to stop yet, Sammy. We could make the distance before sundown. He shot Sam a glance and smirked. _Payback's a bitch._  
  
Not to be put off, Sam made sure he had Dean's attention and began to rub at his own cock in earnest.  
  
"S'matter, Sammy? Someone put itchin' powder down your shorts?"  
  
"No, just gettin' myself comfortable," Sam replied. He slipped down further on the seat, head resting against the back, eyes closed. He groaned, low in his throat.   
  
Dean felt his cock respond with a determined jerk against his too confining clothing. _Fuck! I am in control here. I am NOT gonna stop the car and rip his clothes off!_  
  
He tore his eyes away from Sam with an effort. The little private floor show his baby brother was putting on was damned hot. Men-and some women-would pay a fortune to see a guy as gorgeous as Sam jerk himself off, and Dean was getting to see it all for free. He sighed pulling his thoughts back on focus with an effort. "You just settle back, enjoy the ride, Bro." Dean winked at Sam. "We'll be there before you know it-and when we find a place to stay. Babe, I'm gonna strip you naked, and then-I'm gonna ... You know what? Why don't we have a little music?" He grinned and shoved a cassette into the deck, drumming on the wheels as hard rock blasted out of the speakers.  
  
"Dean," Sam moaned. "Last night, your cock was so smooth on my tongue." He moaned again, his hand moving faster against his cock, eyes closed, hips humping a little as he stroked himself.  
  
Dean let out a soft, hissing breath between his teeth, his eyes yet again straying from the road to watch Sam's antics. God, he's sex on legs. Dean bit his lip, glancing at the road and noting a sign indicating a rest area not far ahead.   
  
"Dean…" Sam moaned, the name trailing off into quick panting breaths, causing Dean's skin to break out in goose bumps and his breath to hitch. 'Fuck!' Dean eased back on the gas, guiding the impala into the rest area and pulling in under some thick, overhanging tree branches.  
  
"God, Dean, do you know how hot I got sucking you last night? Never thought you could taste so good." Sam whispered. His fingers went to the zipper of his jeans, slowly sliding it down. He looked up at Dean, his eyes dark and blown with passion.   
  
"Fuck me, Dean. Please?"  
  
Dean whimpered, a sound that would downright embarrass him in any other circumstances, and slid over on the seat next to his brother. "Actually, baby brother, I think you should just keep right on doing what you're doing." Dean's hot gaze slipped from Sam's face to his crotch watching while Sam freed his hard cock from within his jeans. He trailed his bottom tongue over his bottom lip. "Stroke yourself, Sammy. I wanna watch you."  
  
Groaning, Sam brought his hand to his lips spitting into the palm and then fisted his own cock and began to stroke it slowly. "You gonna be good to me tonight, Bro?" Sam whispered. He arched a little against the back of the seat and Dean had to bite down on his lips to stifle a moan.   
  
"Oh no, I'm gonna be bad, Sammy." He leaned in to kiss his brother, his fingers working the buttons of Sam's shirt while his tongue flicked in and out of that hot, sweet mouth. "I'm gonna be so bad to you," he tweaked a nipple as he spoke close against Sam's mouth he made a trail of kisses to Sam's ear, licking it before he breathed hot and silky against his brother's ear. "Gonna take you in my mouth and suck you till you explode, Bro. Then-I'm gonna slide my fingers into you and stroke you inside till you beg me to let you come again. I'm going to…" Dean closed his eyes and trailed off, panting for breath.  
  
"Oh god, Dean, I love it when you talk like that!" Sam groaned when he felt Dean's teeth nibbling at the juncture of neck and shoulder. "So close-so close, Dean-Dean-uh! Dean, watch me."  
  
Dean smiled against his brother's heated skin and let his eyes trail downwards. "Come for me, Sam." He bit his lip as Sam bucked off the seat, come spurting from his cock all over Sam's fingers, the strangled cry his brother made sending chills down Dean's spine. "Beautiful-so beautiful!" Dean whispered and then pulled Sam close and kissed him, hard.  
  
They broke apart after a few moments, Sam blinking lazily up at his brother.  
  
Dean smiled and pulled back, shifting position on the seat and slowly leaned down to Sam's crotch. He lapped at Sam's hand, cleaning come away with his tongue and then moved to the head of Sam's cock, gently cleaning it as well, holding his brother's hips when Sam bucked from the contact with the over-sensitive head.  
  
"Oh god-oh god, Dean you don't have to…" Sam whimpered as Dean took the spent member in his mouth gently laving with his tongue and sucking a little to clean away every trace of come from his brother's skin.   
  
"I want to," Dean purred, breathing the scent of Sam's recent arousal.  
  
"Jesus, Dean, you so gotta have been watching the porn channel!" Sam said, letting his head fall back against the seat when Dean let him out of his mouth and sat up.  
  
"I never watch the porn channel, Sammy-too much like torture." He grinned. "Nah, guy I met in Pittsburgh, just after you went away to college. Fucking gorgeous, rich as fuck and-well, let's just say Brian taught me everything I know."  
  
Sam pulled back a little, making space between them. "You-you've been with guys before?"  
  
"Yeah," Dean gave a little snort of laughter, "Since high school."  
  
"I didn't know," Sam said. "Jeeze, Dean how could you keep something like that from me, dude? I thought I knew-I thought it was just me?"  
  
"It is just you, now," Dean replied. "You hadda know I'm no saint, Sammy." He flashed a grin. "I'm way too irresistible for that!" He frowned, watching as Sam's eyes clouded with pain. "Sam…"  
  
"Did, this-Brian, did he teach you everything you do?"  
  
Seeing where this was going, Dean laid a hand on his brother's cheek. "Not everything." He stroked his thumb across Sam's face. "The other night, when I hurt you, I tried to tell you-I…" He looked away for a moment. "There's somethin' dark inside of me, Sammy. Since Dad died and-the hospital. Sometimes it gets a hold of me and I do things I hate. Like slicing the head off of that vampire. Like hurting you."  
  
"You gotta get over that, Dean-you gotta know that I won't let anything hurt you!"   
  
Dean leaned in and kissed him. "You'd better tidy yourself up. I'm gonna have to push it to the floor to get us to a motel by sundown. We meet a Marshall on the road, you don't want him seein' you like that, Bro." He scooted back over behind the wheel and started the engine.  
  
Sighing, Sam tucked himself away. "I didn't mean to…" he bit his lip. "I just wanted to see if I could make you feel good, you know?"  
  
Dean grinned reaching over to pat his brother's thigh before he put the car in gear. "You do, Sammy." He swung the car around and out onto the road. "Let's roll!"  
  
Sam cast Dean one last glance before he closed his eyes and settled back against the seat to sleep. _Too many secrets, Dean. You've got way too many secrets._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe.**

Pulling the car up to the front of the motel, Dean looked through the window at the sign. "The Palais Royale?" His gaze went from the sign to the tired looking buildings and he laughed. "Oh my god," he handed Sam a credit card. "Go book us a room, Princess."  
  
"Sure thing, Mr. Grendlewitch-what kind of a stupid name is that to have?"  
  
"It's a name that'll keep us out of trouble, Sam. Hurry up, I wanna get started in on what I told you I'm gonna do to you."  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. Getting out of the car, he walked into the motel office. He was back a few minutes later, tossing a room key into Dean's lap as he got into the car. "Room Thirteen, Bro," he said.   
  
"Thirteen?" Dean frowned and glanced at his brother. "You couldn't get any other number?"  
  
"What, you're not superstitious are you?" Sam laughed when Dean quickly averted his gaze.  
  
"Superstitious? With the crap we face every day? Of course not!" Dean shook his head, slipped the car into neutral and let it idle down to their room.   
  
"Honey, we're home," Sam said as they pulled into the parking space outside room thirteen.  
  
"You want me to carry you over the threshold, darlin'? Dean asked.  
  
"Cut it out," Sam was laughing and his eyes were warm when they met Dean's. "I'm first shower," he said. "Then I'm going to talk to the old guy up at the office, see if I can find out anything about this cat. You, can go see if they have any food in this place."  
  
"You givin' orders now?" Dean quipped but he grinned and got out of the car to help Sam get their gear inside the room.  
  
Sam turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. "Phew, it stinks in here!" He moved to the window and threw it open.  
  
"I mentioned I didn't like number thirteen, didn't I?" Dean headed back out to the car, frowning at the number on the door. _I got a bad feelin' about this place_. He paused and turned back. "Sam?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I-uh-just take care will you?"  
  
"Chill, man! I'll be fine. I'll salt the door and windows." Sam grinned and waved Dean out of the room. "Dinner, I'm starved!"  
  
Dean walked out to the Impala. Sliding behind the wheel, he started the engine and headed back out on the road. He'd spotted a mini-mart on their way through the small town and decided to see what he could find there for dinner.  
  
\--  
  
Sam was still grinning to himself about Dean's reaction to getting room thirteen, as he carefully laid salt lines. He closed and locked the door, leaving the window open to dispel the musty odor he'd noticed when they came in. This motel had a strictly no animals policy posted in the office, but the room smelled of cat. Sam itched his nose as he went to the bathroom and began to strip off for his shower.  
  
\--  
  
Pulling the car up outside the mini-mart, Dean got out and made his way into the store. He smiled at the young girl at the checkout who looked him over quite frankly when he walked in.  
  
He strolled around the store, browsing the freezer and coldcases. His mind drifted back to Sam's little floor show earlier that day on the side of the road, and Dean had to stifle a moan. _God, Sam can be so hot. I wonder I never thought of doing him before now._  Dean knew that wasn't entirely true. He'd appreciated his brother's physique and looks for a long time and had thought of doing him on more than one occasion. _Well, why I never acted on it, anyway._  
  
\--  
  
Sam turned his face into the water spray, letting the hot water wash away the day's dirt from his eyes and hair. "Big hell cats," he murmured. "Wonder where you spawned from." His mind wandered back to the rest area with Dean. He grabbed the soap and washed his body down, fisting his cock in one soapy hand and giving himself a few leisurely strokes as he recalled his brother's heated whispers _Gonna strip you naked Sammy, and then I'm gonna suck you till you explode-gonna slide my fingers into you and stroke you on the inside until you beg me to let you come again…_  
  
"Oh _fuck_! Son-of-a-bitch!" Sam yelped, bolting from the shower which had suddenly run ice cold.  
  
\--  
  
' _So fucking gorgeous when he comes,_ ' Dean thought. _All flushed and sweaty_. He started, turning around quickly when a feminine voice said.

"Can I help you with anything?"  
  
Dean smiled at the sales assistant and shook his head. Reaching into the cabinet he stood in front of, he grabbed two turkey sandwiches that looked edible. He added a pack of donuts and headed for the register.  
  
The girl at the register smiled at him. "Just passing through?" she asked glancing up at him through long dark lashes.  
  
"Actually, I'm here in town for a few days on business," Dean replied.  
  
The girl laughed. "Business, in _Millerton_?"  
  
Dean shrugged. "Yeah, I'm uh-with the Wildlife Service. We're here to investigate reports of a large cat in the area, attacking cattle and such. You wouldn't happen to have heard about that, would you?"  
  
"Oh, no." The girl rolled her eyes. "It's only all that my dad has talked about this last month. He won't let me out of his sight except when I'm at work! She gave a small shake of her head. "I mean, no-one even knows if it's for real or not. It's kind of an urban legend, you know?" She leaned over the counter, whispering conspiratorially. "They say, it sucks all the blood out of your body, and sometimes-it even takes on the form of its last victim!"  
  
Dean scoffed. "That so?" He shook his head. "Sounds like a spooky mother…"  
  
"I think it's just an evil plot by parents to make their kids behave."  
  
Dean nodded and paid for his purchases. "Well, see ya." He picked up the paper sack and headed towards the exit. After a moment he paused and looked back. "You should mind your dad." He smiled. "Too soon, you don't have 'em around anymore to bug you." He made his way to the Impala and got in.  
  
Glancing into the rear-view mirror as he started the car, Dean noticed that the girl had come out of the store and was watching him. He frowned and revved the engine. _Come on, Baby. Let's take Sam his dinner._  
  
  
\--  
  
Sam handed the old guy behind the counter a twenty dollar bill and made his way back out of the office. "Thanks for your help," he said. Sam pressed a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. A faint, stabbing pain shot through his head and he winced. He recalled the final words of the old dude. ' _Ain't anyone ever went lookin' for it has come back.'_  
  
"God!" Sam reeled as another, sharper pain shot across the front of his head. He quickened his pace, knowing what was to come, and wanting to be inside the motel room before he was rendered helpless in the throes of a vision. He barely made it across the threshold, inside the salt lines when his eyesight darkened and he was in another place.  
  
_She was so pretty, long red hair drifting about her shoulders, soft brown eyes and fair skin. She walked along the side of the road, humming a snatch of a tune to herself._  
  
The dark shadows at the side of the road seemed to grow denser as Sam looked on helplessly. The girl heard a sound and turned to the side of the road. "hello?" She said. "Who's there?"  
  
There was the sound of an unearthly shriek. The girl screamed and started to run. The shadows seemed to move with fluid grace and there was an horrific tearing sound.   
  
Blood-so much blood.  
  
Sam choked, coming back to his senses with a groan.  
  
"Sam?" Dean was beside him crouching down on the floor with him. "What's wrong? What happened."  
  
Reaching for his brother, Sam shook his head, still trying to clear the pain and darkness away. "I saw her, Dean. The girl-she was walking along the road and-it got her."  
  
"Where? When? Did you see anything that might help us to find her?"  
  
"No," Sam shook his head. "Nothing like that-it was dark and she was walking along the road." He thumped his arm against the floor. "What damned good is it, seeing these visions if they never give me anything to work with?"   
  
"Easy, Sam, you just got that arm out of the cast."  
  
"I mean it, Dean! It's so frustrating!" He sighed. "Did you find out anything?"  
  
"I dunno, Sammy, there's something don't smell right about this town. I asked about the cat and was fobbed off with the old urban legend routine."  
  
"All urban legends begin with a basis in truth," Sam reminded him. "But you're right. The guy in reception wasn't too helpful either. He did tell me there have been a spate of sightings and disappearances over the years though."  
  
"Huh. I think these people know more about this cat than they're letting on," Dean said.  
  
"You're probably right, Dean." Sam glanced at the paper sack Dean had put on the table. "Did you get anything good for dinner, besides M &M's?"  
  
"Couple turkey sandwiches, and they had donuts on special."  
  
"Ugh, God save us from good food," Sam said. Getting up and opening the bag, he snagged a donut and bit into it.   
  
"You shouldn't eat carbs after seven," Dean told him. "You'll get fat." He snagged a donut of his own.  
  
"Well, I'm pretty sure you told me you had a way to work some calories off me tonight."  
  
"And I do. All in good time, Sammy. I need to shower." Dean stood up, stuffing the last piece of donut into his mouth.  
  
Sam nodded and unwrapped a sandwich, pulling the bread open and sniffing the contents. He seemed satisfied that it was not poisoned, taking a bite out of it and talking around the food. "You know, we could try the registry office tomorrow. Work up some background on our victims list, try to establish any patterns?"  
  
"Sounds good. Be back…" Dean got up and headed into the bathroom, stripping out of his clothes and starting the water running.  
  
_Sooner than you know, Dean, 'cause that water runs hot for all of five minutes._  Sam went to the bed, reached for his laptop and flipped it open, still munching on the sandwich, which was pretty good for mini-mart stuff.  
  
Dean stepped under the hot water spray with a blissful sigh. It was good to let the water wash away the dirt from his skin, and ease his achingly tired muscles. He picked up a bar of soap and began to wash himself down. He scrubbed soap into his hair, and rinsed it, humming to himself as he luxuriated in the heat and steam.

  
\--  
  
Sam reached for John Winchester's journal and flicked through it, looking for a sketch of a hell cat he'd seen, and compared it with the image he found on the internet. Hey Dean? I think I found our cat…" he called out. "It's called Flauros!"  
  
"SONUVVA!" Dean shouted from the bathroom. Sam heard the sound of a bulky frame exiting the shower in a hurry. "What is this, a fucking monastery?"   
  
Sam winced. "Uh. Sorry, Bro. I forgot to tell you the hot water service is not great in here."  
  
"OW! Owwww! Shit!" Dean grumbled. "I got soap in my eyes! Burns like a bitch!"  
  
"Okay Dean, hold on, I'm comin'." Sam grabbed the towel he'd used to dry off with and went into the bathroom. "Here, let me." He wet a corner of the towel in the basin and used it to wipe at Dean's eyes. "Keep them closed."  
  
"Keep them closed? I can't even open them! I can't afford this, not when we're on a hunt!"  
  
"Oh chill, it's just a little soap. You're not going to be permanently blind." Sam dabbed at Dean's eyes a few more times and then guided him out of the bathroom.  
  
Settling Dean on the side of the bed, Sam licked his lips, breathing in the scent of soap and heated skin. "Still hurtin'? Should I get another cloth?"  
  
"Nah." Dean grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him closer. "Like you said-it's just a little soap. It'll be okay." He pulled his brother on top of him and sought his lips in a gentle kiss. "I know a way we can make it better."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Sam grinned claiming Dean's lips in a long, hard kiss that left them both panting for breath. "Tell me all about it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe.**

The Palais Royale offered a free continental breakfast as part of the nightly rate. Sam and Dean decided to take advantage of it as some small compensation for their cold showers the night before. Cereal, toast and coffee, pretty standard fare, but it would save them having to buy breakfast on the road and any penny saved was a boon.   
  
Dean sipped his coffee and then set the cup aside with a grimace. "I think I'll wait till we're on the road, get m'self a real coffee." He looked at his brother across the small table. "You said somethin' last night about finding the cat?"  
  
"Yeah." Sam had his laptop open in front of him. He turned the screen towards Dean. "It's called Flauros, manifests as a large cat, most often a leopard-there are black leopards, right? Anyway, it's a duke of hell and commander of legions. According to the legends, it destroys its enemies with fire, and-it feasts on virgins. Most of the victims have been young, so, what d'you think?"  
  
"Could be," Dean frowned, but we don't have any evidence of this cat frying anyone's ass. Just seems to tear them to pieces mostly."  
  
"Well, you know how it is with legends-a mixture of fact and fiction usually." Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair. He scratched at his right arm just above the wrist and frowned at the rash that had developed since the previous day. "I hope these bites aren't bothering you the way they are me. Must be bed bugs in this room or somethin'?"  
  
"Bites?" Dean shook his head. "I don't have any bites."  
  
"Somethin' got me, good." Sam replied. "He rubbed his fingers over the weals which were very inflamed and itched like hell. "We might have to stop and get a cream for this rash or somethin'."  
  
"Okay, we'll try find a drugstore as soon as I get a decent coffee."  
  
Sam nodded and closed the laptop. He stood up and put a hand to his forehead as a wave of dizziness assailed him. "Fuck!"  
  
"What?" Dean got up. "Vision?"  
  
"No. No, I-just got a little dizzy."  
  
Frowning, Dean stepped closer to Sam and laid a hand on his forehead. "You're a little warm," he noted.  
  
"I'll be okay." Sam gave the elder Winchester a reassuring smile. "Quit your fussin'."  
  
"And you quit tearin' at that!" Dean pointed to where his brother was busily scratching at a welt on his arm. "It's getting worse. If you can't leave it alone, I'm gonna put you in cuffs!"  
  
"You just try…" Sam growled but he pulled the sleeves of his jacket down and gripped them with his fingers to stop the scratching.  
  
Heading into the bathroom, Dean splashed cold water on his face and dried off with a towel before scruffing his fingers through his hair, giving it its customary neatly tousled look.  
  
"C'mon, Dean! I can't stand this itch!" Sam was waiting for him in the bedroom when Dean emerged. "I gotta get somethin' for it."  
  
"I'm gonna complain to the manager. They got some serious bed bugs or something in this room!" Dean grabbed up his car keys and duffel, heading for the door. "Here, warm up the car," he tossed the keys to Sam. "I'm gonna hand in the room keys."  
  
"Sure," Sam frowned. He loaded the bags in the car and then slid behind the wheel, starting the engine. He let the car idle for a minute or two and then put it into reverse and backed out of the parking space. Sam shook his head, closing his eyes as his senses reeled again and this time he was hit with a pang of nausea. "Oh god…" he groaned and then cursed as an ugly scraping sound told him he'd backed Dean's car into a concrete pillar at the side of the parking space. 'That's all I need!'   
  
Sam collected himself and drove the Impala up to the motel office. 'He's already pissy from lack of caffeine and I have to go and scratch his precious car!'  
  
Sam got out of the car as his brother emerged from the office. Dean tossed him a small pack of candy. "Compliments of the management," he said. "Seems they've had complaints before about the…what the fuck?" Deans eyes went to the rear fender of the Impala. "Dude!" He moved to the car and hunkered down, running his fingers over the ugly scratch.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sam said. "Dean, you're gonna have to drive. I-I'm not up for it."  
  
"Ain't that the truth?" Dean turned an angry scowl on him. "What the hell were you doin'?"  
  
"Geeze man, I told you I'm not feelin' so hot." Sam leaned against the car. "Can we just get somethin' for this allergy or whatever? It's just a goddamned car, Dean!"  
  
"To you it's just a goddamned car! Have you forgotten how I got her?"  
  
"No-no, look I'm sorry, okay? We'll fix it the next time we're at Bobby's. Dean, please, I feel like shit."  
  
Still muttering and shaking his head, Dean stood up. "Okay, get in the car."  
  
"I'm sorry, dude, I know how much this damned car means to you," Sam said. He backed around the car towards the passenger side. "You're not gonna hit me, are you?"  
  
"Just, get. In. the. Car." Dean climbed in behind the wheel and slammed the door.  
  
Sam practically fell into the passenger seat, absently scratching at his arm. He was pale and sweating and his teeth had begun to chatter. He closed his eyes hugging himself and leaned into the back of the seat.  
  
Glancing at him, Dean frowned. "Dude, are you all right?"  
  
Sam didn't respond.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Wha?" The younger Winchester shook his head, blinking a few times. "Dean?" Sam tugged his sleeve upwards, revealing the rash and an ugly looking red line which had begun to advance along his forearm.  
  
"What the hell?" Dean shot an anxious glance at his brother's face and then pushed the gas pedal to the floor, roaring out of the motel parking lot in a cloud of dust and smoke. "Hold on, we're hittin' the first town I find with a medical centre and pharmacy, dude!"  
  
Sam only groaned. Rolling his head to the side and weakly gripping the armrest on the passenger door, he drifted into a fevered sleep.  
  
The nearest town with a medical centre and pharmacy took them half a day to get to. By the time they neared the outskirts of the town, Sam was only semi-conscious and Dean was frantic with worry. He didn't have to touch his brother to know Sam was burning up with fever. The heat radiated off him in waves.   
  
"Hold on, Sammy, just hold on, okay?" Dean downshifted pulling every ounce of horsepower he could muster from the Impala's engine. 'Run like you never ran before, Baby! I can't lose him, not now!'  
  
Finally spotting a sign bearing a red cross outside one of the buildings Dean screamed to a stop and was out of the car before the engine had fully cut out. He ran to the passenger door, wrenching it open. "Sam!" He hunkered down by his brother's side, trying to pull his brother's lanky frame out of the car. "C'mon, Bro, we gotta get you inside!"  
  
Sam groaned in response but didn't move.  
  
"Help me, here, Dude!" Dean shook him by his arm and tried again. After a moment, he realized he was not going to get his brother to cooperate. "Stubborn ass," he muttered brokenly, trying to deadpan his fear away. He turned and fairly ran into the medical center, eyes frantically searching for help. Spotting a young man in blue scrubs coming towards him, Dean yelled. "Hey! Hey I need your help! My brother!" He didn't wait to see if the dude was following him before he spun around and bolted back to the car.  
  
"How long has he been like this?" The Medic moved to Sam's side, taking hold of the younger Winchester's wrist and counting his pulse.  
  
"I don't know. A few hours," Dean replied. "He was okay last night, but this morning he complained that his arm was itchy and he felt bad." He frowned. "What's the matter with him?"  
  
The medic Pushed Sam's sleeve up, examining the rash.  
  
"What is it?" Dean repeated.  
  
"We won't know for sure until the doctor has seen him. It might be an allergy, or a blood infection." The medic gestured for Dean to help him and they got Sam out of the car, half carrying him between them, into the clinic.  
  
Once inside, Dean and the medic got Sam onto a gurney, and Dean was told to wait outside while his brother was examined.  
  
He paced the waiting room, watching the door Sam had been taken through like a hawk, ready to swoop on anyone who showed their face.  
  
After twenty minutes, Dean moved to a chair near the wall and sat down. He closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hands. 'I can't lose him, please let him be okay.' He prayed silently.  
  
\---  
  
Sam was only dimly aware of being put onto a bed of some sort and wheeled through sterile halls. He flickered in and out of consciousness alternating between fever and chills. He called for his brother, but there was no answer. Why wouldn't Dean answer him?  
__  
"Dad? Dean? DEAN!" It was dark, so dark here. What had happened? Something hit the car, something big, a solid impact. Dean had been close to dead already when they got him into the car after the demon attacked them; using Dad's body as a vessel to taunt them, hurt them. It was too quiet. Dad wasn't moving, Sam couldn't even hear Dean breathing.  
  
"No…no, this is all past, we got out of this…Dean's alive." Sam sobbed. He fought the firm but gentle hands that tended to him, pulled his arm away when someone dabbed at the rash on his right arm. "Let me go…let me see Dean! Where's Dean?"  
  
He felt the prick of a needle in the back of his hand. He drifted away.  
  
\--  
  
Dean hadn't moved from the chair in the waiting room. No one had come near him since Sam was taken inside the clinic. He sat, head bowed, eyes closed, willing Sam, wherever he was, to hang on. 'After everything we've faced, all that's happened the things we have survived, I can't lose him to a fucking skin rash! I won't, you hear me-I won't let him go!'  
  
The sound of footsteps approaching brought Dean to his feet. He met the eyes of the medic as the young man came over to him. "How is he?"  
  
"He's resting," the medic said quietly. "Doctor Mallory thinks that it's an allergic reaction. We're treating him with anti-histamine and penicillin. His fever has broken and it's just a matter of time. The doctor has ordered some blood work and we'll know more when we get the results back.  
  
Dean nodded, relief flooding him. "Can I-see him?"  
  
"It's not our policy to allow visitors when a patient is in critical care."   
  
"I'm his brother!" Dean stepped into the medic's personal space. "I wanna see my brother!"  
  
The medic shook his head slightly. "I…"  
  
"Look man, you think I'm lying or something? Sam is my brother. You can't keep immediate family out!"  
  
"I'll see if I can find the doctor," The medic walked away, leaving Dean fuming behind him.  
  
\--  
  
Sam came to with a groan, rolling his head on the pillow and opened his eyes, trying to focus. He could see something shiny and metallic above his head. He blinked, his surroundings slowly becoming clearer. A bag of clear fluid hung from a steel hook above him. He followed the IV line with his eyes until it met the needle taped into a vein on the back of his hand. Sam stirred. "Dean? Hello? Nurse-anyone?"  
  
He sat up groggily, wincing and closing his eyes for a moment. His head hurt like a bitch, but he needed to see Dean. He had to know for sure that his brother was okay, that the scenes he'd lived through before he passed out were only hallucinations. He slipped to the floor and leaned heavily on the side of the gurney. Gathering his strength after a moment, Sam straightened his spine and took a step towards the privacy curtain just as a young, dark-haired man came into the small cubicle.  
  
"You should be lying down," the medic said. He moved to Sam's side and caught hold of his arm. "You need to rest."  
  
"I want to see Dean." Sam took another faltering step and moaned as his knees buckled. "Please, can you call my brother in here?"  
  
"I really think you should…" The medic trailed off as the curtain swung aside with a sharp hiss and Dean stepped into the cubicle. "You can't come in here!"  
  
"The hell I can't!" Dean was beside Sam in a moment. "Lie down, Sammy; you're too sick to be on your feet."  
  
"What happened?" Sam didn't resist as Dean helped him back onto the gurney. "I can't remember-I-how did I get here?"  
  
"I drove you here this morning, after you got sick at the motel. Doc thinks you're allergic to something but we don't know for sure yet." Dean moved to a chair beside Sam's bed and parked his ass in it, giving the medic a look that said he wasn't going to budge.  
  
With a sigh, the medic shook his head. "I'll go and see if I can find Doctor Mallory," he said. He left, twitching the privacy curtain back in place behind him.  
  
"Moron," Dean said softly.  
  
"Jerk," Sam replied.  
  
"Hey, I didn't mean you." Dean grinned at his brother, happy to hear the quick retort.  
  
"Oh? Well, that makes a change," Sam said. He turned to look at Dean. "So I guess I ate something last night that didn't sit too well with me?"  
  
"We don't know, Sam. Hopefully the doc will know more when the blood work comes back." Dean stood up, leaning over the gurney, close to Sam's face. "You scared the fuck outta me!"  
  
"Sorry," Sam croaked. "I felt fine last night-really fine." He smiled into his brother's eyes.  
  
"Yeah, uh, Sam? We need to keep it on the level here, okay?" Dean smiled to take any sting out of his words. "We don't need more complications."  
  
"How long do I have to stay here?"  
  
"I don't know, baby. You've been here an hour already." Dean smoothed a hand over Sam's forehead, noting that his skin had returned to a more normal temp. "Quit scratchin' at that!" Dean grabbed Sam's hand just as the medic came back into the cubicle.  
  
Clearing his throat, the medic moved to Sam's side. "You should try not to scratch." He looked at Dean. "Doctor Mallory will be along in a moment." After checking Sam's pulse and inspecting the IV, the medic left.  
  
Keeping hold of Sam's hand, Dean sighed and sank back down in the chair. "Man I just wanna get out of this town. I don't care if I never see it again!"  
  
Frowning, Sam looked at his brother. "It's one of the three towns in between those burial grounds, Dean," he said. "We have to check it out." They both glanced up as the curtain was pushed aside and a middle-aged man in a lab coat came in. He greeted Sam with a smile and walked over to stand beside the gurney.   
  
"You look a little better than when I first saw you," Doctor Mallory said.  
  
"Uh, yeah, um thanks, Doc."  
  
"I'v got your blood test results back and I'm happy with them. You've had an allergic reaction to something, but there doesn't seem to be any underlying infection."  
  
Sam nodded. "Does that mean I can get outta here now?"  
  
"In a little while," the doctor agreed. He glanced at the IV. "I'd like to get some more fluids into you first," he said. "You're very fortunate your brother decided to get help when he did."  
  
Dean smirked at that and gave Sam a smug look.  
  
"Yeah, he's a brick," Sam said. He dug his fingers into Dean's wrist hard enough that he knew it hurt. He felt Dean's involuntary wince and heard the sharp intake of breath.  
  
"I do my best," Dean quipped with a look that told Sam he was not gonna let that pass.  
  
"I'll prescribe you some anti-histamine, and an anti-biotic. I think a steroid cream will help with the rash." The doctor stepped back from the gurney, his eyes trailing to where Sam and Dean's hands were tightly interlaced on top of the light blanket covering Sam's large frame. "I'll have the medic come in and take the IV line out in about half and hour," he said before he walked out.  
  
"I swear to God, Sammy," Dean muttered after the doctor left. "As soon as you're recovered, I'm gonna kick your ass!"  
  
Sam only grinned. "You gonna go find us somewhere to sleep? Might as well snoop around some now that we're here." Sam glanced around the cubicle and passed his tongue across dry lips. "While you're at it would you grab me a bottle of water?"  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. "What am I, your personal body slave?" _Know he's feelin' better when he starts slinging orders_.  
  
Sam grabbed at his brother's hand before Dean walked out. "Dean, thanks for…" He looked up into Dean's eyes. "Just, thanks, okay?"  
  
Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes, but he squeezed his brother's hand. "I'll be back in about half an hour. You should be good to go then." He let go Sam's hand and headed out of the cubicle.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe.**

Sam was sitting on the chair in his cubicle when Dean returned carrying a paper sack with the logo of a take-out store. Dean carried a bottle of springwater under one arm, and two paper coffee cups one on top of the other in his other hand. He Smiled at Sam.  
  
"Thought you might be hungry," he said raising the paper sack. "Got ya a burger and a half-caff double-vanilla latte." He grinned. "Got myself a coffee."  
  
"Just gimme the water," Sam said. "I'm dyin' of thirst here! And the stuff they gave me is warm." Sam wrinkled his nose.  
  
Setting the coffee cups down on a small table, Dean handed the water to his brother. He watched as Sam unscrewed the lid, gulping at the ice cold liquid.  
  
"Did you find us a place to stay the night?" Sam pointed at his brother with the bottle.  
  
"Yeah, and it's a darn sight cleaner than that-pit we stayed in last night."  
  
"We can ask around, see if anybody's noticed anythin' strange the last couple of weeks." Sam took another draught of water from the bottle before he reached to place it on the table. He glanced at the price tag and frowned. "Dean! I've seen this before…" Sam trailed off, grabbing his head with a groan of pain.  
  
"Oh no, dude-not here!" Dean moved to Sam's side and grabbed him by the shoulders. "That damn medic thinks we're weird enough as it is. You pull this psychic freak stuff now and he's gonna really wig out!"  
  
Sam moaned, shaking his head. "She's here, Dean. It's here! We…we've gotta stop it." He screwed his eyes shut against the visions that flashed across his mind.   
  
_The young woman walked alongside the road in the gathering darkness. Soft red hair framed her face and floated around her shoulders. She carried a backpack and in one hand, she held a bottle of water which she lifted to her lips and sipped from._  
  
Sam sobbed helplessly as the vision continued.  
  
_There was an unearthly shriek and the girl screamed, started to run. The shadows seemed to take solid form and there was a horrific tearing sound, a sickening thud and the backpack was lying in a spreading pool of blood. A keytag attatched to the zipper glinted in the dying light. 'Lara' was enamelled on it in white lettering. The bottle of water rolled to the shoulder, the price tag plainly visible-identical to that on the bottle Dean had given Sam._  
  
"The cat's here, Dean, in this town, I'm sure of it!" Sam opened his eyes, grabbing for Dean's arms. "We hafta find her, before…before."  
  
"Okay!" Dean gave Sam a small shake. "Hold it down will ya? You want them to lock you up?"  
  
"The bottle, she had water. Dean what store did you buy that water from? We have to go there."  
  
"I hear you, Sam," Dean dropped his voice to a whisper. "We'll go look for the store once we get you out of here, okay?"  
  
Sam nodded, standing up and heading out of the cubicle. "We can't waste any time," he said. "If it gets to her before we do…"  
  
\--  
  
"These are the antibiotics," The medic said as he put a cardboard packet into a bag. "You have to take them with food, three times a day and make sure you finish the whole course." He added another packet of pills. "Anti-histamine," he said, glancing at Sam. "And this is a steroid cream for the rash." He twisted the paper sack closed and handed it to Sam. He looked at Dean and then back to Sam. "You boys take care now." He sneered.  
  
"Hey!" Dean lunged at the guy, violence in every line of his body. "What do you mean by…" He made a fist but paused when Sam laid a restraining hand on his arm.  
  
"C'mon, Bro," Sam said. "Leave it."  
  
Dean shrugged Sam's hand off his arm, "Let's get outta here," he muttered, heading for the exit.  
  
"Dean, wait up!" Sam said. "I can't walk that fast."  
  
"Sorry," Dean said when Sam caught him up.   
  
"It's okay, Dude." Sam shook his head. "I dunno why you let people get to you like that. He doesn't know anythin' he's just making stupid assumptions."  
  
"It's not that, Sammy," Dean replied. "I just won't let anyone put shit on you."  
  
"Hey, I'm okay. It's not like I'm six or something."  
  
"You'll always be my baby-chile," Dean crooned, helping Sam into the car and dodging a cuff to his ear. "Ohhh gonna have to be faster than that, Sammy boy." Dean shut the door and moved to the driver's side, sliding in behind he wheel. "Let's get you back to the hotel."  
  
\---  
  
Dean inserted the key into the motel room door and pushed it open, stepping into the room. He began to strip off his jacket. "Well, here it is," he said over his shoulder to Sam. "Like I said it's a lot…Sam!" Dean grunted as he was seized from behind and shoved hard against the wall. Sam kicking the door shut behind them as his mouth crushed down on Dean's lips.  
  
Sam kissed him hard, forcing his lips apart and thrusting his tongue into Dean's mouth. He undid Dean's shirt, slipping his hands inside to stroke silky, warm skin and growled against Dean's mouth.   
  
"Sammy," Dean gasped when he was allowed to come up for air. "You only just got out of the ER. I don't know if this is such a good idea." He whimpered in spite of himself when Sam's response was to blaze a trail of kisses and nips along his jaw and down his throat. "Oh God, Sam…"  
  
"Shhh," Sam hissed against his throat. His hands went to the waistband of Dean's pants, unbuttoning them before he dropped to his knees, freeing Dean's cock and taking it into his mouth.  
  
Dean groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall. Eyes closed, breath coming fast and ragged between parted lips, he floated in a cloud of sensory overload. "Sammy…" Dean tried again and then fisted his hands into Sam's hair, knees buckling when the younger Winchester turned his attention from Dean's cock to his balls sucking one of them into his mouth.   
  
Sam sucked first one and then the other of Dean's balls laving them with his tongue, rolling them gently. He got up on his knees after a moment, nuzzling gently against Dean's belly while he stripped out of his jacket and shirt and then stood to kick out of his jeans. "Dean," he whispered. "Dean…" He caught hold of his brother's hands and led him to the bed, climbing onto it on his hands and knees. "I know what you need," he murmured.  
  
Dean shook his head, his mind still slightly foggy. He looked down at Sam, and stepped forward, placing his hands on Sam's hips. "Sam, I-not like this…"  
  
"C'mon, Dean, take it. It's okay, c'mon…" Sam cajoled.  
  
"Stop it, Sam. I'm okay, this is me here." Dean pushed away from his brother, feeling sick that Sam felt this was the only way to ground him. "Sam, if you want to fuck, we can fuck," Dean said. "But I won't-I can't-use you like that." Dean closed his eyes.  
  
Sam turned, sitting on the bed for a moment, staring up at his brother and then he got up and bolted into the bathroom, his cheeks bright with chagrin. _When did I stop knowin' how to read him?_ he asked himself. He softly closed the door behind him.  
  
"Sam!" Dean thumped on the bathroom door. "Sammy, c'mon, dude, come out of there!"  
  
\--  
  
Sam didn't answer. He leaned on the small vanity unit, staring at his reflection in the mirror. ' _It 's meant bring him back to me_ ,' he thought.  
  
\--  
  
"Sammy if you won't come out, I'm comin' in!" Dean turned the doorhandle and walked into the bathroom. The sight of his brother leaned over the vanity with tears streaming down his face brought him up short. "Ah shit!" He shook his head and reached for Sam. "Babe, c'mere."  
  
Sam buried his face against Dean's neck with a sob. "I didn't mean to make you mad. When I saw how wired you were, the way you looked at that guy at the clinic…"  
  
"Yeah, I wanted to kill that son of a bitch," Dean said. He placed his hands either side of Sam's face, wiping tears away with his thumbs.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"I am strung out, Bro-I won't deny it. I'm worried about you. I'm thinking of this hunt-I'm tired and hungry and horny as hell, but, I don't wanna hurt you to make myself feel better." Dean lowered his gaze and passed his tongue across dry lips. "Not ever again if I can help it. I'd rather…" He swallowed against a lump in his throat. "I'd…"  
  
"It's okay." Sam let out a shaky breath. "My fault, okay. Guess I'm a bit freaked myself. The visions, they're so vivid-strong now, you know?" Sam folded his arms across his chest, becoming conscious that he was naked. "I should get dressed," he said. It'll be night soon and we have to find that girl before…"  
  
"It's no-one's fault, Sammy," Dean said. He followed his brother back into the bedroom. He sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. _We're not good yet_ , he thought, watching as Sam picked up his scattered clothing and began to dress. Dean sighed and began to gather up his own clothes. He pulled his shorts on and then his jeans. "Look," Dean said. "The way things used to be with us-the things we used to do. I-I don't think we should do that anymore." He watched as Sam, fully dressed now, knelt down next to the duffel that held their weapons and began sorting through it.  
  
"Why'n the hell not, dude?" Sam shot him a glance over his shoulder. "You drummed it into me often enough how it couldn't be any other way with us."  
  
"Hey, hear me out, Sam! I'm not sayin' I don't want to-to be close and I'm not sayin' I don't want to…" Dean rubbed his hand across his mouth, letting out a sigh of frustration. _I suck at this crap,_  he thought. He paced the floor while he looked for the words to tell Sam that, as much as he wanted to be with him, he didn't want to do it if it meant hurting Sam anymore. "We got off on the wrong foot with this stuff, is what I'm sayin'."  
  
"So what? We suddenly turn into Joe Normal and his _chick_?" Sam scoffed. "You think one night of me on my knees blowin' you is enough to make you want normal?" Sam tossed the gun he'd been checking back into the duffel and got to his feet. "Or what? You don't wanna do this anymore cause someone looked at us the wrong way? Did that medic get to you, Dean? Is that what this is about? Fuck, a week ago you would have used me and to hell with what I or anyone else felt or thought!"  
  
The words hit Dean like a punch in the gut. He stared at Sam in silence for a moment as each word hit. He shook his head and took a step backwards. "No-no…" Dean grabbed his shirt and jacket and bolted from the room.  
  
He made his way to the car, pulling his shirt and jacket on. Reaching into his pocket, Dean searched for the car keys and muttered a curse when he realized that they were inside the motel room. "Fuck!" Dean kicked at a wheel of the Impala and then leaned against her, staring off into the distance as Sam came out of their room.  
  
"I'm going out," Sam said. "Going to ask around and see if anyone knows the girl I keep seein' in my visions.   
  
Dean nodded, avoiding eye contact. He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the ground. _T_ _alk_ , he thought. _Why do I even fuckin' try? Words are worth nothing anyway!_  
  
He stayed where he was. Silent, until Sam had walked across the motel car park and out into the street. Only then did Dean move. With a muttered curse, he went back inside and slammed the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe.**

Dean flung himself down on the bed in the deserted motel room, staring up at the ceiling with his arms folded behind his head. This was all just so fucked up. It seemed like nothing he did made the situation between himself and Sam any better. He sighed, shook his head and closed his eyes. Sam was always harping on at Dean to talk to him, to open up about his feelings, and yet the one time that Dean did try to do that, he got it thrown right back in his face. Dean sat up with a snort of disgust.   
  
"And on top of that the little shit left the weapons lying all over." He got up and started to put the guns and other weapons back into the duffel. He paused after a moment, a frown creasing his forehead. Something was wrong with this picture.  
  
_The guns,_ Dean thought, _they're all here!_  
  
"Fuckin'  _idiot_!" Dean scrambled to his feet grabbing the duffel in one hand and snatching up his car keys, the room key and his cell phone. "I'm so kickin' his ass!" He was speed dialling Sam even as he made his way to the car.  
  
\--  
  
Sam walked into the small convenience store on the main-street and made his way up to the counter. He smiled at the guy serving. "Hi," he said. "My name's Sam. I'm just passin' through this part of the country, and I thought I might look up a friend of mine." He ducked his head, letting the smile falter, playing the shy boy to the hilt. "We were in class together at the end of last year. Maybe you know her? She's about my age, red hair, really-pretty." He decided to go out on a limb with some detail from his visions. "Her name's Lara?"  
  
The guy behind the counter looked Sam over, seeming to buy the story. "I know a girl named Lara Falen," he said. "She'd fit the description-you only missed her by about quarter of an hour, Son. She's on her way out to the bus depot. Said somethin' about catching the next bus out."  
  
Sam's cell phone began to ring and he took it out of his pocket, checking the screen, he shook his head and hit the divert key.  
  
"The bus depot? Can you tell me how to get there?" Sam's heart began to beat unevenly and he shuffled his feet, wanting to just bolt out of there and find the girl, but he knew it wouldn't do any good running off half cocked.  
  
\--  
  
"Sam, pick up!" Dean fumed. He cursed when Sam's phone diverted to voice mail and stabbed the redial key. "So help me, if you don't pick up…"  
  
"Dean?" Sam's voice came over the phone.  
  
"Where the hell are you?" Dean growled.  
  
"Outside the general store-main street. Dean hurry! She's on her way out of town and it's nearly dark!"  
  
Dean gunned the engine. "I'm on my way!"  
  
\--  
  
Sam paced the pavement outside the store craning his neck for a glimpse of the Impala and almost ran out into the road when he heard the familiar roar of her engine coming up the street. He had the door open and was in the passenger seat before Dean had even brought the car to a complete stop.   
  
"She's on her way to the bus depot," he said to Dean. "It's back in the opposite direction along this main road, but it's about half a mile out. Dammit, Dean, if we're too late…"  
  
"We'll get there." Dean swung the car around and roared back in the direction he'd just come. "Hang on!"  
  
\--  
  
Lara Falen had had it with this backwater country town. She'd had it with her brother, she'd had it with her dad, and she'd had it right up to yah with her mother's close-mindedness on the subject of Joey Mallory. She couldn't believe that her mother had such a chip on her shoulder about the Mallory's. Joey was the son of a doctor for heaven's sakes! Wouldn't most moms be proud to think that their little girl had fallen for someone like that? It wasn't like Joey was wild or anything either. He was a responsible boy from a nice family.  
  
_Mom thinks he's too old for me._  Lara rolled her eyes, taking a sip from the bottle of chilled water she had bought at the general before walking out to the bus depot. "Well, let's just see what they do when they hear that Joey and I eloped. I'm eighteen for crying out loud! It's not like they can really stop me from seeing him if I want to!"  
  
There was a sound from the brush beside the road and Lara paused, peering into the gathering shadows. "Hello? Is somebody there?" She frowned when there was no response and walked on, shaking her head. "Jumping at shadows, she chided herself. "You're not a kid anymore!"  
  
Another rustling movement and a low rumbling growl made her stop again. "Joey, if this is your idea of a joke, I don't think it's very funny!" Lara called out. "Now come on out of there and walk me to the bus properly!"  
  
Shaking her head after a moment, Lara turned and started walking again. She quickened her pace, glancing back over her shoulder. There was that low rumbling again. She frowned.  
  
"Is-is someone there?" Lara stopped walking, rubbing her arms. The air had grown suddenly chilly and she wished she'd thought to bring a jacket with her. "Joey? Come on please, stop fooling around, you're making me nervous!"  
  
Rowwr!  
  
The sound sent a chill along Lara's spine she back stepped a few paces and then turned, increasing her pace. If she could just get to the bus depot, get inside, she'd be safe.

Something heavy crashed among the trees beside the road. Lara screamed. She broke into a run.  
  
"Help me! Someone help me, please!"  
  
\--  
  
"Any ideas on how we're gonna kill this thing?" Sam asked as the Impala rocketed along the road out of town.  
  
"With a gun, probably," Dean replied. "What, were you plannin' to wrestle it to death with your bare hands, Tarzan?" He slanted a look of disbelief at his brother. "You didn't even take a knife with you!"  
  
"Oh yeah, and like you're always so organised, Dean," Sam snarked. He reached for the duffel taking out a pistol and checking it over before he tucked it into the back of his jeans. "Oh my god, Dean, lookout!"  
  
Dean turned his eyes to the road and slammed his foot on the brake. "Shit!" He wrestled for control of the car for a few desperate seconds spinning almost 180 degrees.  
  
Both Winchesters bolted from the car as soon as it had stopped.   
  
"Are you all right?" Sam ran towards the young girl whom they'd narrowly avoided running down.  
  
The girl was panicked. She ran towards Sam screaming for help and he caught her in his arms. "Lara, it's okay I've got you," he said quickly. "We're here to help you."  
  
"It's out there," Lara sobbed. She looked over her shoulder fearfully and cried out with terror when an unholy shriek rent the air. Sam pushed her behind him, taking a defensive stance, gun in hand, ready to shoot anything that moved. "Run!" he yelled.   
  
Dean stepped forward and grabbed the girl. "Get in the car!" he said, pushing her into the back seat of the impala.  
  
"Where is it?" Dean turned just in time to see a dark shape charge towards Sam out of the shadows. "Sam!" He watched as his brother crumpled in a heap in the middle of the road clutching at his head. "Sammy!" Dean ran forward a few paces, emptying a clip of bullets at the creature.  
  
If the cat felt the bullets at all, they couldn't have done more than sting and the only real effect they had was to turn the creature's attack. It landed soundlessly on the road next to Sam and then immediately leaped at Dean letting out a blood-chilling demonic yowl.  
  
"Oh shit!" Dean said. He stumbled backwards, expecting the cat to be on him any second.  
  
"Dean!" Sam yelled, struggling to his knees in the road. He took aim and fired at the cat, his bullet taking the demonic creature in the belly. The cat screamed, seemed to turn in mid air and then it vanished in a white hot flash of fire that made both Winchesters flatten themselves to the tarmac shielding their eyes from the brilliant glare.  
  
Stunned silence stretched between them after the cat disappeared which Dean finally broke. "Holy fuck," he muttered. "That wasn't your average domestic shorthair!" He got up and went to Sam, put a hand on his shoulder. "You all right?"  
  
"Yeah." Sam sat up, rubbing his head and looked into his brother's eyes. "The girl?"  
  
"She's in the car," Dean said. He helped his brother to his feet and they walked to the car.  
  
"I'm not convinced we got it," Sam remarked.  
  
"I don't think we did." Dean shook his head. "Those bullets were washed in holy water but they didn't seem to do much more than sting a bit.  
  
"Right." Sam moved to the door of the Impala and bent down to look inside.   
  
Lara was huddled against the driver's door, her eyes wide and dark with terror. "What was that thing?" She asked. Her face was streaked with tears.  
  
"We don't know, exactly," Sam said. "Are you okay, Lara?"  
  
"Y-yes," Lara said. "How do you know my name?"  
  
"Lucky guess," Sam said. He indicated the key tag on her backpack.  
  
"Oh." She relaxed a little.  
  
"We'll drive you back to town," Dean said, leaning down to look at her. "That cat might still be out here."  
  
Lara nodded and turned her eyes to Sam again. "You're bleeding," she said softly.  
  
Sam frowned, following the girl's gaze to his shoulder where a patch of blood was spreading across his shirt. "Huh. Damn thing must have scratched me," he said.  
  
"My brother is a medic at the infirmary in town," She said. "He should be home from work by now. He could tend to that for you."  
  
Sam winced and glanced at Dean. "Nah, it's just a little scratch. I'll be fine."  
  
Dean moved around to the driver's door and opened it, waiting for Lara to budge into the center of the seat before he got into the car. Sam climbed in on the passenger side and Dean set the impala on the road back to town.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe.**

Dean sat at the table in the small diner, frowning over the list of names Sam had just handed to him. "So, all these are people who are suspected to've disappeared in connection with this cat?"  
  
"Uh-huh." Sam nodded, glancing at Dean as he chewed the last mouthful of his breakfast. "Most of them are young, no older than me, anyway." He shook his head. "There are only a couple of exceptions and I think those may have just been opportunistic. Someone was there, so it took the chance."  
  
"Huh." Dean nodded, running his finger down the list of names. He stopped, stabbing at one name with the thumbnail photo next to it. "This guy though. Stuart Laraby. I know him."  
  
"What?" Sam raised an eyebrow.   
  
"He was a hunter, Sam. Dad and I worked with him on one or two jobs. He was pretty good-can't imagine him falling victim to this thing."  
  
"It only takes a moment of inattention, Dean." Sam reached for the list and glanced at the face of the guy Dean had pointed out. "He looks Native American." Sam put the list down, his hand going to his shoulder where the cat had scratched him the night before. He winced, and rubbed at the area. It itched like hell, but was too sore to scratch.  
  
"Yeah. He had a lot of mojo that Dad and I never heard of. Stuff seemed to work for him though." Dean paused as his cell phone began to ring. He took it out of his pocket and flipped it open.   
  
"Hello?" Dean frowned. "Yes, I remember…uh-huh…" His eyebrows went up, his expression changing from puzzlement to downright interest. "When did this happen? Last night?" He glanced at Sam across the table and got up, still holding the phone to his ear. "Right, okay, we're about three hours drive from the park. Don't let anyone near the area and we'll get out there as soon as we can."   
  
Dean snapped the phone shut heading for the door of the Diner. "We got somethin' Sam. Let's go!"  
  
"Care to share?" Sam slid into the passenger seat as Dean started.  
  
"That was the ranger from the park where that Raymond kid was killed. Says they had another near miss with the thing last night. Kid it was after's still alive, a little bit shaken up, but okay. They found somethin' in the park that he thinks might be connected so he decided to give us a call." Dean glanced at Sam who was absently rubbing his shoulder. "Did you take your meds this morning?"  
  
"Yes, I took them!" Sam gave an exasperated sigh. "So what did they find?"  
  
"Some kinda drawing on some rocks, he said."  
  
"Interesting," Sam said.  
  
"Huh."  
  
They fell silent after that, Dean slipped a cassette into the deck, focussing on his driving while Sam settled back on the seat, staring out at the countryside flashing by the window.  
  
\---  
  
The ranger's car was parked at the bottom of the trail and Dean pulled the impala in alongside. They got out of the car as the ranger walked over to meet them.  
  
"Thanks for coming," he said to Dean. "I don't know what to make of this design or whatever it is. He nodded to Sam. It's up near the top of the trail. He turned and started walking, the Winchesters following close behind.  
  
"So, on the phone, you said that there was another kid attacked last night?" Dean asked.  
  
"Chased, is more accurate, the thing didn't catch him. He says he ran up the trail and the cat followed him, but it seemed to give up after a while." The ranger shrugged. "The kid just got damned lucky if y'ask me."  
  
"This boy, is he a local?" Sam glanced at Dean, waiting for the ranger to answer.   
  
"Yeah, he lives in the town. He was friendly with the other boy we had killed out here."  
  
Sam and Dean exchanged glances and then quickened their pace to catch up to the ranger who had stepped off the main trail onto a small one that led deeper into a heavily wooded area.  
  
"It's a bit of a climb from here," the Ranger said.  
  
Dean pulled a sack of peanut M&M's from his pocket, tipping a few into his hand and offering them to Sam who shook his head.   
  
"All the more for me," Dean said, tossing the candy into his mouth and pocketing the packet.   
  
They made their way up a steep, narrow trail until the Ranger stopped, pointing to a rock formation. "It's just the other side of those rocks," he said.  
  
Dean nodded, stepping past the guy and started to climb up the smooth rock face. When he got there, he stopped and crouched down, peering over the edge. "Dude," he said softly.  
  
Sam joined him a moment later, "Well, how 'bout that," he murmured. "A devils trap."  
  
"Yeah," Dean replied. Finding a handhold in the rock, he swung himself over the edge and landed in a crouch next to the roughly drawn symbols. "It can't have been here long," he said when Sam landed beside him. "It's drawn in chalk, and it wouldn't stand up to the elements here." Dean trailed his fingers through one of the lines. "Do you think maybe this kid last night tried to summon that thing?"  
  
"Kinda looking that way," Sam agreed.  
  
"We need to talk to him," Dean said. He got up and began to climb back up to the trail, Sam close behind him.  
  
"Nice ass," Sam murmured.  
  
"I heard that!" Dean reached the top and turned to offer Sam a hand up. "Let me help you there, sweetheart."  
  
"You were supposed to, jerk." Sam let his brother haul him up to the top of the ridge and leaned in close. "Thanks, darlin'," he whispered.  
  
Dean smirked and turned to the ranger. "Do you think you could put us in touch with the kid the cat went after last night?"  
  
"Yeah, I've got his details back in the car." The ranger turned and headed down the trail.  
  
Dean made to follow him but was brought up short by a hand on his arm. He turned to Sam with a frown and was quickly pulled into his brother's arms; his mouth smothered by eager lips as Sam fisted a hand into his hair and pulled him closer.  
  
They broke apart a few moments later, both of them breathing hard.   
  
"You really do have a great ass," Sam said. He slapped Dean on the behind. "Get movin', that ranger's gonna wonder what we're up to."

  
\--  
  
Dean looked at the slip of notepaper in his hand as they climbed into the car after parting from the ranger. "Michael Laraby," he said, glancing at Sam. "Familiar sur-name." He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, heading back towards town. "We'll find a motel, and give this kid a call from our room."  
  
"Can we go back to the same motel we stayed in last time?" Sam smiled shyly. "We had a good time there."  
  
Dean grinned shaking his head. "Read my mind, Sammy boy!" He bit his lip, thinking back to that night when Sam had given him the best blow job he could remember receiving in a long time. "Maybe you wanna repeat performance, huh?"  
  
\--  
  
Dean sat on the bed, a large oilcloth laid out in front of him, on which he had spread out their weapons. He held a dismantled pistol in his hand, running a cloth through the barrel to clean it.   
  
Sam sat at the table, his laptop open in front of him and John Winchester's journal lying open alongside it. "Dad's journal says that these demon cats can be shot," Sam said. "He mentions a special bullet, but he doesn't say anything about how to make it. Just two sets of initials M.Q. and S.L.-Stuart Laraby maybe?"  
  
"Could be, but I don't know anyone Dad knew with the initials M.Q.," Dean replied. He sighted down the barrel of the pistol and then reassembled it before picking up another.  
  
There was a soft knock at the door and both brothers looked up.  
  
Dean grabbed a towel and threw it over the weapons. "Come in," he called.  
  
The doorknob turned and a young boy about sixteen pushed the door open and stepped inside. Seeing Dean with a pistol in his hand, the kid drew a sharp breath, taking a backwards step. "Uh-sorry, I think I must have the wrong room."  
  
Dean smiled and got up off the bed. "Are you Michael?" he put the gun down and glanced at Sam. "I'm Dean, this is m'brother, Sam. I'm the one who called you."  
  
"Um-yeah, you said it was something about the-about what I found last night?" Michael still looked uneasy.  
  
"The ranger said you were out on the trail last night, and something chased you," Sam stepped forward shooting his brother a look and getting an innocent 'what?' expression from Dean in reply.  
  
"Yeah, I guess that's what happened," Michael replied.  
  
"You _guess_ that's what happened?" Dean narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Yeah, um well, no, that is-I mean…" Michael looked at Sam. "I didn't do anything wrong, I was just out for a hike and-are you guys cops or somethin'?"  
  
"Dean, cool it," Sam said.  
  
Dean sat down on the bed and resumed cleaning the gun. "Okay, Sammy, you do the talking then," he said.   
  
"Look, if you're cops, there's really not a lot I can tell you," Michael said. "I know I shouldn't be out there that late, but…"  
  
"We're not cops, Michael, okay, we-we're interested in the big cat sightings that have been happening 'round here and we thought maybe you could throw some light on a few things." Sam sat down at the table and gestured for Michael to have a seat.  
  
"You mean the hell cat," Michael said.  
  
Sam nodded, "We know it as Flauros, but yeah, the hell cat. What can you tell us?"  
  
Dean looked up, fixing Michael with a steady, calculating gaze.  
  
Michael swallowed hard, flicking a glance at Dean and then back to Sam. "Well, my friend Ray and I, we were trying to find it."  
  
Dean shook his head, muttering a curse under his breath. "Don't you know that you shouldn't be foolin' around with this kinda stuff?"  
  
"We wanted to get it!" Michael retorted. "That thing-it-it killed my uncle!"  
  
Sam shot Dean another warning glance. "The drawing we saw up at the top of the hiking trail, you do that?"  
  
Michael bowed his head. "Yessir."  
  
"Wait a minute," Dean finished cleaning the gun and put it back in the duffel. "Your uncle. Who was he?"  
  
"His name was Stuart," Michael said. "Stuart Laraby."  
  
Dean shot his brother a glance. "Did you set that cat loose? Foolin' around in your uncle's stuff for kicks and…"  
  
"No sir." Michael shook his head emphatically. "It was out before then; it's been around a long time. My uncle was hunting it."  
  
Sam shook his head and gave a low whistle.   
  
"Looks like our dad and your uncle were huntin' the same thing, Michael.  
  
"Your dad?" Michael looked from one to the other.   
  
"The name Winchester mean anything to you?" Dean asked. "And I don't mean the gun factory."  
  
"John Winchester." Michael said with a nod.  
  
"Bingo," Dean said.  
  
"He was our dad." Sam looked down at his hands.  
  
"I met him once," Michael said. "I was staying with my uncle Stu and he came to visit. They were good friends."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Dean said. "I met your uncle once or twice too, when my dad and I were huntin'."  
  
"So you know what your uncle really did?" Sam smiled at the boy.  
  
"Yessir! Uncle Stu took me on a hunt or two. Nothing big, not like this cat thing. So when I heard he was dead, and I got the letter-from the reading-I found out it was something to do with this last hunt he was on and I got Ray to help me and then-it got Ray."  
  
"Michael, no offence," Sam said, "but you're messin' with something that's way out of your league." He paused for a moment. "What were you hoping to do with that devils trap?"  
  
"I was gonna summ-well actually I did summon it, last night. It came to the trail. That was all I wanted to do for now, just see if I could get it to come there-then I was going to work out how to kill it next time."  
  
Dean got up, walked over to stand in front of the kid. "That damn thing nearly killed my brother and me-and an innocent girl last night! You have no idea what you're foolin' with!"  
  
Michael scrambled off his chair and backed away. "Hey! I didn't make it do anything, I just summoned it, I…"  
  
"Dean, he didn't know, okay!" Sam stood up, putting a hand on Dean's arm.  
  
Flexing his fists, Dean drew a deep breath and turned away.  
  
"Tell us what happened as best you can remember it," Sam said softly.  
  
"It was weird." Michael shook his head slightly. "It came and it was just-staring at me. It didn't try to do anything. It looked almost-I dunno-tired, or hurt."  
  
"Swear to God," Dean muttered, palming his face.  
  
"Hurt?" Sam asked.  
  
"Yessir. It was standing there, and holding one paw off the ground. I was expecting it to attack, but it never did.  
  
Dean glanced over his shoulder at his brother. "We put a few bullets into that thing. Maybe it was that?" He looked at Michael. "Then what, you just walked away and it let you go?"  
  
"Well, not exactly…"  
  
"Well,  _what_  exactly?" Dean's patience was wearing thinner by the moment. Getting the story out of this kid was like pulling teeth.  
  
"Michael, look," Sam said softly. "The longer that thing is out there, the more chance someone else gets hurt. We need to know anything you can remember."  
  
"It growled and it started to come at me, so, I ran, but it only chased me a little way and then-I thought there was an explosion. I felt heat and the trail lit up like daylight. I was knocked down and I figured I was done-but nothing happened. It was gone."  
  
Sam raised an eyebrow, glancing at Dean.  
  
"Huh." Dean frowned in thought. "Same thing happened when it was after us. Maybe this thing is having trouble holding its form?"  
  
"Could be." Sam nodded agreement. "Michael do you know how close your uncle got to this thing? Did he tell you anything?" Dean asked.  
  
"I guess he got a little _too_ close, sir." Michael bowed his head. "It got him." He looked up and met Sam's eyes. "But there's one other thing." He reached into the neck of his shirt and pulled out a small gold amulet on a leather cord.   
  
"What is that?" Sam asked.  
  
"When Uncle Stu's will was read," Michael pulled the necklace off over his head. "This amulet and one other like it was left to me. There was a letter, too. The letter said that these amulets would protect the wearers from the cat." Michael frowned. "It said that if I got that letter it would mean he was dead…" He swallowed hard. "I gave the other one to Ray." Michael raised tearfilled eyes to Sam's face."Why didn't the amulet protect Ray? How did the cat get him?"  
  
Dean reached into his pocket and took the small piece of gold he'd found at the site of Raymond's death from his pocket. He handed it to Sam who had also taken the necklace from Michael. "We think maybe Ray lost his," he said softly.  
  
After a moment, Sam spoke. "Michael, did your uncle ever mention a burial ground east of here?"  
  
"Yessir, he took me there once." He frowned. "Do you think maybe the amulets are from there?"  
  
"It's possible." Sam agreed.  
  
"Well, wherever they came from, it's pretty obvious they have some kind of power over the cat," Dean said. "Last night, we had one of them, and you had the other." He frowned. "We were attacked and so were you, but the cat didn't kill any of us…Michael did your uncle have a book- a journal-something like that, and if he did, do you know where it is?"  
  
"I don't know for sure, sir, but if he did-my dad would have it. He's got all of Uncle Stu's stuff."  
  
Dean nodded, "Call me Dean, wouldya?" He glanced at Sam who was rolling the two pieces of gold in his hand, staring at them as though he hoped they would speak and tell him everything he needed to know.  
  
"Michael, I have one more question," Sam said. "Do you happen to know a girl named Lara?"  
  
"Lara?" Michael shook his head. "I don't think so?"  
  
Sam nodded and slipped the amulets into a pocket. "Just wondered. The cat was stalking her last night."  
  
"We'd like to see that book, if it exists. If your uncle was huntin' this thing, he might have worked out a way to kill it. Stu was a good hunter, he would've recorded it for sure."  
  
"We could go to my house," Michael said. "Dad's got all Uncle Stu's stuff in a few boxes in the basement."  
  
Sam got up. "Okay, we should do that." He looked at Dean who seemed to have drifted off to some faraway place. "Hello?"  
  
"Huh?" Dean looked up. "Oh, right, yeah."  
  
"My house is only a little way from here," Michael said. He made his way to the door.  
  
Sam held Dean back for a moment. "He's gonna want to come with us on this hunt.  
  
Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know. We'll worry about that when we have to. Might not be such a bad thing. You know _we_ both wanna be in at the kill when track down the thing that got Mom, Jess, and Dad."  
  
"Dean, this is different, this kid isn't a hunter."  
  
"He'll be with us, Sam." Dean took his car keys out of his pocket and headed out to the Impala.  
  
Michael was standing next to the car, running his hands over the glossy paintwork. "This yours?"  
  
Dean grinned. "Yup!"  
  
"Maaan, that's a sweet ride!" Michael was awestruck.  
  
"Oh, please, don't encourage him," Sam groaned.  
  
"The man's got taste, Sammy," Dean replied. "Knows a good car when he sees one!" He slid in behind the wheel and started the engine, revving it a couple of times for Michael's sake.  
  
Michael bounced into the back seat, grinning from ear to ear. "This is awesome!"  
  
Sam scowled. _fuck, and Dean wants to take this kid with us-he'll get us all freakin' killed!_  He flicked his brother a withering glance.  
  
"Lighten up, Dude," Dean said. He glanced into the rear view mirror. "Which way, Mikey?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe.**

"You know, Dad's got something in his journal about Native Americans using gold to light the pathways of the dead," Sam said as he and Dean followed Michael into the basement of his home.  
  
Dean didn't respond, and Sam shot his brother a look of concern. Since they'd met Michael Laraby and begun to pull together the loose ends of this job, Dean had become progressively more distant. Sam could see the familiar shadows in his brother's eyes that had started to appear on any hunt since the death of John Winchester. Sam pressed his lips together in a firm line, wishing he knew how to reach his brother. It scared Sam when Dean got like this.  
  
"The boxes are just over in this corner," Michael said, leading them across the basement.  
  
Four cardboard boxes stood in the corner, neatly stacked one on top of the other. Michael grabbed one and hefted it to the floor, pulling the top open and delving into its contents.  
  
"Your uncle didn't have a whole lot of stuff," Sam said and winced, immediately regretting his words. "Sorry," he said. "Our Dad-he didn't leave much, either."  
  
"Uncle Stu always said it was best to travel light. He didn't have a house or anything. Just his old truck and…" He gestured to the boxes. "A few things."  
  
Dean glanced at Sam, breaking out of his reverie long enough to add. "Hunters don't have time to gather a lot of stuff."  
  
_Yeah,_  Sam thought, _Dean and I lived in those boxes._  
  
Dean laid a hand on one of the other boxes and looked at Michael. "Do you mind?"  
  
"Sure, go ahead," Michael replied. He continued to dig in the box he'd opened.   
  
"Do you ever remember seeing your uncle with something like this?" Sam reached under his jacket and took John Winchester's journal out, opening it to show Michael the pages of scrawled notes, news clippings and maps.  
  
Michael looked at the book and then dug back into the box. "I think I remember seeing something…"  
  
Dean glanced over at Michael, but kept going through his box, taking items out and laying them aside reverently.  
  
"Here!" Michael pulled a small, leather bound diary out of the box.  
  
Hunkering down beside Michael, Sam watched as the boy opened the book, turning the pages carefully. "Hunter's bible," Sam murmured as Dean moved to crouch next to him, their thighs briefly rubbing together as Dean caught his balance.  
  
"What's the final entry, Michael?" Sam asked, as Michael continued to slowly turn the pages, examining each one carefully.  
  
"Dude, I know this is important to you," Dean added, "But…"  
  
"Sorry." Michael opened the journal to the last page. "This was written about a week before he…" He trailed off, tracing his fingers over the scratchy handwriting.  
  
"May I?" Dean asked, holding his hands out for the book.  
  
Michael handed it to him, and Dean read aloud, Sam leaning in to look, steadying himself with a hand on his brother's shoulder.   
  
"Amulets obtained from M.Q. have yet to devise a way to use them. J.W. says may be possible that reforging them into a bullet will do the trick. Flauros knows I am closing in. Getting smarter. Killed three times in the last month and strength is increasing…"  
  
Michael swallowed hard, biting his lip. Dean glanced at him and flicked back through the pages. "Look at this!" His fingers smoothed over a page bearing a diagram of the two amulets. "Looks like you were right, Sammy. These amulets have a binding charm on them."  
  
"Seems we found a link," Sam said quietly. He looked at Michael for a moment, watching emotions chase across the boys face.   
  
Dean nodded and closed the diary, holding it in both hands for a moment. Sam could see his brother was wrestling with giving it up, considering the wealth of knowledge it probably contained. Dean let out a breath after a moment and handed the journal to Michael. "I guess this is yours now," he said, clapping the boy on the shoulder.  
  
"Dean," Sam said. "C'mon, it's getting late."  
  
"Yeah, you're right," Dean agreed. He straightened up. "We need to see what Dad's journal says about this stuff."  
  
"Let me come with you!" Michael scrambled to his feet.  
  
"No," Sam replied.  
  
"Please!" Michael appealed to Dean. "It killed my uncle!"  
  
Dean frowned, licking his lips.  
  
"Dean, this isn't a good idea," Sam said.  
  
"I'll go anyway! I-I'll go to the trail, it'll come there, I already summoned it once before!"  
  
"Dean?" Sam asked.  
  
"All right, but you stick by me, and do as you're told," Dean said.  
  
"Yessir!" Michael lit up with delight.  
  
Sam shook his head, meeting his brother's eyes for a moment. Seeing nothing there that could let him hope Dean would change his mind, Sam let out a breath. "There's a diner down the road a ways. We should get something to eat and I'll sift through Dad's journal.  
  
Michael gave a whoop, heading for the door and Sam shook his head again. "He's your responsibility, Dean. Don't come crying to me if he gets your ass killed."  
  
  
"He's gonna get his own ass killed if we don't keep an eye on him. You heard him, he'll go after that demon bitch alone. At least if he comes with us we might stand a chance of stopping him from doin' somethin' stupid." He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "C'mon, we got a cat to hunt!"  
  
"Right now, you're what's important to me, Dean," Sam said.   
  
"Ah don't go gettin' all mushy on me, Sam."  
  
Sam frowned as he followed Dean up the stairs. Dean's heightened state was coming off him in waves and it made Sam edgy. Of all the hunts they'd been on, Sam thought none had made him as nervous as this one. He hadn't told Dean, but the night they'd faced the cat on the road with Lara, the animal had knocked him off his feet without even touching him. Somehow, it had gotten inside his head with a bolt of energy that bowled him over. He'd been surprised that his usually observant brother hadn't noticed it.  
  
\---  
  
The Winchesters sat with Michael in the little diner just outside of town. Dean was eating fries with ketchup and Michael sipped on a malted milk Dean had treated him for. Sam pored over John's journal, a plate at his elbow with a half eaten burger on it.   
  
"Here," Sam stabbed a finger at one of the diagrams and Dean glanced over to see what he was looking at. "The devils trap was drawn wrong. That's why it was able to chase you."  
  
"It's an easy mistake to make," Dean said. He looked at Michael. "Pay attention here," he said firmly. "These aren't just details. Okay? They're vital."  
  
"Yessir," Michael replied.  
  
"And call me Dean."  
  
"Looks like Dad was researching how to send this mother back," Sam said. He turned the page. "Listen to this-The dead shall be led by the dead."  
  
"What the hell does that mean?" Dean frowned at Sam who shook his head.  
  
"Feel free to jump in anytime with something useful, Bro," he said. He took the amulets out of his pocket and laid them on the table, watching Dean's face as his brother frowned in thought.  
  
"Okay, so Stu said that these amulets have binding spells on them-they were used to bind spirit guides to burial grounds, right?"  
  
"Yeah, and lead the spirits of the dead into the next life, according to Dad's journal."  
  
"So when they moved those bones during the freeway construction, my guess is they removed an amulet."  
  
"Yeah, but that would only mean those being buried there now would have no guide."  
  
Dean's eyes darkened and he sipped his coffee, his brows knitted together in a scowl.  
  
"The other amulet could be from the burial site east of here," Sam went on quickly. "But we have the same problem there. It's not like the ground is used to bury the dead in anymore."  
  
Dean tapped the side of his thumb against his bottom lip. "There's somethin' we're missing," he said softly. "What-what-what?" He glanced at Michael. "You're allowed to offer an opinion here."  
  
"The dead shall lead the dead," Sam murmured. After a moment, he looked up. "Dean? The spirits were bound to these amulets right?"  
  
"Yeah, thanks for the recap, Bro," Dean grumbled.  
  
"No, hear me out." Sam said. "So it would figure they still are right?"  
  
"I suppose so-what are you gettin at, Sammy?" Dean's voice had sharpened a notch.  
  
"So what if the spirits tied to the amulets are what Dad's talking about."  
  
"You mean, the cat could be looking for them?" Michael offered.  
  
"Not sure, but our cat's a fire demon straight from hell's house-its dead or one of the undead-same kinda thing when it walks among the living." Sam replied.  
  
"So it should be a simple matter of rebinding it to the amulets, and sending it back where it came from," Dean mused.  
  
"Well we wouldn't be binding the demon to the amulets we would be using the spirits bound to the amulets to send it back to hell," Sam corrected him, "But yeah, that's the basic idea."  
  
"Huh! So we shoot the motherf...er the cat," Dean cast a glance at Michael. "What I was gonna do all along."  
  
Sam frowned at Dean, seeing that dark intensity flicker in his eyes again. "Yeah. It should be enough to send it back," Sam said. "but you only have one shot, Bro."  
  
"Well, I know how to forge a bullet," Dean said. He got to his feet. "You guys ready to roll?"  
  
"Dean! I mean it-one shot at this, ok?"  
  
Dean grinned. "Now when did you ever know me to miss?" He tossed his car keys to Michael. "Go start her up, dude. We'll be right there." He turned to his brother as Michael left. "Will you chill? The kid's gonna be okay."  
  
"I know, I know, okay-it's just this whole thing-we're setting him up, Dean, you know he's gonna start huntin' once this is over."  
  
"He was huntin before we got here, Sammy. Least we can do is show him how to do it-safely."  
  
Sam leaned in to brush his lips across Dean's. "Yeah, okay."  
  
The sound of a wildly revving engine drifted to them from outside and Dean winced. "Can we go now, before this kid kills Baby?"  
  
Sam grinned, "Yeah, sure. Lead on." He jumped and let out a small yelp when Dean slapped his ass on the way to the door. "That had better be a promise for later," he said.  
  
"Oh you better believe it, Bitch!"  
  
Sam bit his lip, feeling a small shiver run down his spine and followed his brother out to the car.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe.**

"So you think this bullet will really work?" Sam asked. He was sitting on the bed, watching as Dean cleaned the pistol he was planning to use that night.   
  
"I sure as hell hope so," Dean replied. He reassembled the gun, and checked that it was well oiled and not likely to jam. "We're running out of options, Sammy."  
  
"One shot." Sam frowned. "Gold is softer than lead or iron, so you're gonna have to get real close before you shoot that thing. The best way is to use something it's already had a taste of."  
  
Dean looked up from what he was doing. "I'm not letting you go after it, Sam. That thing was gonna tear your throat out last night!"  
  
"You said yourself we don't have anything much in the way of options." Sam rubbed at his shoulder. "It's going to want to finish the kill."  
  
"I said no, Sam!" Dean glanced at the door as Michael came in, carrying a brown paper sack.   
  
"I got those things you wanted from the store," Michael said.  
  
"Good job," Dean held his hand out for the sack.  
  
"Look, we don't have any other option," Sam said. "Unless you're planning on using Michael and even I don't think you're that stupid."  
  
Dean opened the paper sack, lifting items out and setting them on the table. "Basil, rock salt, candles," he looked up from checking the inventory. "Have we got any Anise left?"  
  
Sam merely shook his head, moving to check the duffel. He picked up a small canister and opened it. "Not a lot," he said.  
  
Dean sighed. "It'll have to do. We don't have time to get Bobby out here with more." He frowned thoughtfully.  
  
"Why do we need Anise, or any of this other stuff, Dean?"  
  
"Cause we're gonna summon it, that's why. I wanna make sure that we're protected when we do."  
  
"Dean, it knows we're hunting it-this demon isn't stupid. Unless there's something to sweeten the pot, it isn't just going to walk into a trap."  
  
"Man, sometimes, you're so like Dad, it freaks me out!" Dean said. He took the canister of Anise from his brother and set it with the other supplies.  
  
"And what's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Sweeten the pot?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "That's exactly how Dad would think. Besides, you don't think the pot's not sweet enough with three hunters in the one place, just beggin' her to come out and take a bite?"  
  
"What, you're hoping it'll just go for you and leave us alone?" Sam rolled his eyes.  
  
"It's not gonna get a chance to go for anyone! The minute it shows its hairy ass I'll nail it!"  
  
"Fuck, listen to you, man!" Sam got up facing his brother squarely. "You got a death wish or somethin'! That demon has killed one hunter already. She's not gonna make any mistakes. She could take any one of us in a second, Michael's not experienced enough to face somethin' like this-you're not even thinking straight and…"  
  
"I can handle myself!" Michael broke in suddenly.  
  
"No-one's sayin' you can't," Dean said, giving Michael a quick glance.   
  
"No offence, Michael," Sam said, "but have you ever faced anything like this?"  
  
"Maybe not, but I know enough to keep out of the way of that thing-and you two. I can cast a circle, I know how to draw a pentagram and lay a salt line and-do you guys always fight like this before a hunt? Uncle Stu told me you need to be calm because…"  
  
Dean laughed and turned to Sam. "He's right, Sam. We don't need to be drawin' negative energy right now."  
  
"Oh that's sweet, Dean. Real sweet! Negative energy is a one-hundred and sixty pound cat that can rip you to ribbons or scorch the skin off your bones!" He threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "But all right, we'll do it your way-not like we ever do anythin' else."  
  
Shaking his head, Dean packed the supplies into a hold-all and picked up the newly cast, golden bullet. He glanced at Michael. "Sorry about your heirlooms, buddy." He smiled when Michael just made a dismissive gesture and shook his head. "Sure made one pretty bullet, though." He pulled the pistol out of the back of his jeans, loading the bullet into it before putting it back.  
  
Sam grabbed Michael by the shoulder. "You stay with Dean, okay? You promise me now, you won't leave his side!"

  
Michael looked up at him. "I'll do as I'm told." He cast a glance at Dean and Sam couldn't miss the look of open admiration. "I won't make any trouble."  
  
"Make sure you don't."  
  
"Well, it's gone seven," Dean said, picking up the duffel. "Time we hit the trail." He handed the duffel to Michael. "Go wait in the car, Mike." After the boy had gone, Dean turned to Sam. "Are you with me, Bro?"  
  
"What do you think, Dean?" Sam looked into his eyes.  
  
"I think you're pissed at me, and I think we need to resolve that. You don't go out to fight a demon with a chip on your shoulder.. You know you're leavin' yourself open to attack."  
  
"Don't preach to me, Dean."  
  
"I'm not preaching! I've got one shot at this black bitch and I need to know you've got me, Sam!"  
  
"I've got you? Dean, nothing is gonna kill this mother other than that fuckin' bullet. If you miss and she turns on you, what the hell do you think I'm gonna be able to do?"  
  
"You can let me die knowin' we're good." Dean raised a hand to Sam's cheek.  
  
"Dean, please, let me be the one to draw her out."  
  
"I can't, Sam." A demon took Mom, and then Dad. I can't let…" He looked away. "Don't ask me for that."   
  
Sam relented with a sigh. "It's late. We should go get Michael before he heads off on his own."  
  
"I'll get her, Sam. I just need to know that you're with me." He made his way out of the motel to the car.  
  
\--  
  
The three of them spent some time once they got to the top of the trail, drawing and concealing the devil's trap so that the demon wouldn't see it until she was caught.  
  
The plan was to summon the demon and then try to get her into the parameter of the trap where Dean would have a clear shot.   
  
Sam sat cross-legged on the ground. He had John Winchester's journal open in his lap A brass bell was set in front of him and he held a dorje in one hand.  
  
Dean paced outside the trap, watching the darkness with wide, alert eyes. He held the loaded pistol in his hand. Sam could feel the waves of intensity coming off his brother like water against a sea-shore. He glanced up at Dean, and then checked that Michael was well out of harms way.  
  
Dean nodded to Sam. "Let's do it," he said softly.  
  
Sam drew a deep breath and bent over the journal, angling the page so that the light of a candle next to him fell across his father's writing. "Blood of blood, spirit of darkness, come from below and from above, entity of fire, walk amongst us come to this circle when I sound the bell." He lifted the bell  and struck it three times with the dorje.  
  
As the last pure note of the bell died away, a light breeze sprung up, blowing across the ledge the three men waited on. Dean tensed feeling a deep sense of calm and focus fall over him. He was alert, heart racing, ears attuned to the smallest sound, his mind was clear as the notes of that bell. He cocked the pistol waiting, watching.  
  
Sam closed his eyes, praying that the demon would appear, that his brother would be okay, that they would kill the damn thing and could get out of this place. Something carried faintly to him on the wind and he wondered if only he heard it. One word-a dark whisper, the sound full of many voices but spoken by one.  _Hunter._  
  
Sam's hair prickled on the back of his neck, the word felt almost like a caress. He opened his eyes, he stood up, peering into the darkness. "She's here," he murmured. "I can feel her."  
  
Dean turned in a circle, gun raised, eyes searching. "Where are you? Show yourself!"  
  
A low growl rumbled from somewhere nearby and Dean muttered a curse, looking for the source.  
  
Sam drew a deep breath, and looked up. Perched above them on the overhanging rock formation, the cat bared her fangs, her yellow eyes narrowing to slits as she growled at him. Sam felt all the strength drain from his body. Captured by the glowing eyes, he gasped for air. His shoulder began to burn and Sam groaned in pain.  
  
_You die!_ The malevolent thought brushed his mind and Sam felt himself falling into darkness. He let out a long, despairing moan and fell backwards onto the rocks beneath him.  
  
Dean swung around to look at his brother, following Sam's gaze upwards until he saw a shadow flicker above them. He could barely make out the form of the cat on the ledge. "Hey!" he yelled! "Come down here and fight, bitch!" He aimed the gun at the cat but he knew he was out of range for the bullet which was too soft to have much impact at more than a few feet. He stepped forward, into the parameter of the trap and let the hand holding the gun fall to his side. "C'mon, free shot! What're you afraid?"  
  
Near him, Sam choked, clawing at his shoulder, writhing on the ground. He screamed through gritted teeth.  
  
Dean muttered a curse, bending to pick up a handful of salt, careful not to break the circle, he flung it upwards at the cat's face, trying to goad it into leaping for him. "Come on, fraidy cat!" he taunted.   
  
The black cat opened her mouth in a yowl of fury. Her attention diverted from Sam and she leaped at Dean.   
  
Dean staggered backwards a step or two as the cat launched herself right at him. Her glowing eyes met and held his as she soared through the air, fangs bared, claws unsheathed. "Oh fuck…" He muttered. Suddenly the arm holding the gun felt incredibly heavy. Dean ground his teeth and squeezed the trigger, his knees buckling as the cat was almost upon him. He fired, praying that his aim was not off, and hit the ground, rolling aside, narrowly dodging the huge paw that swiped for his throat.  
  
The cat screamed, recoiling from the impact of a bullet in her throat. She hit the ground, thrashing, screaming, her paws flailing to strike her attackers. Dean looked up from where he lay prone a couple of feet away. The cat was inside the trap. He struggled to hands and knees. "Michael! The bell!"  
  
"Yeah!" Suddenly galvanized from where he'd been crouching under the rock ledge, Michael dived on the little bell, snatching up the dorje. He struck the bell in seven measured tones, watching the cat, which was now crouched in the center of the trap they'd laid. Her eyes were growing dim, but she lifted her head and shrieked with a sound that rent the air.   
  
Lying on the ground a few feet from her, Sam arched his back, crying out with pain and rolled onto his stomach. " _Die!_ " He yelled. " _All Hunters will die_." He struggled to his knees, tears of pain streaming from his eyes. " _This is not over, Winchesters! The reckoning is yet to come_!" Sam clutched at his head. "Guh! Get out!" He groaned.  
  
The cat's eyes darkened, flickered shut, she gave one last growl and was still.   
  
Dean moaned and dropped to his knees. He suddenly felt old, and very tired. He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing long, ragged breaths and let the gun fall from his slackened fingers. "It's over," he whispered. After a moment, he made his way to Sam's side, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You okay?" He was taken by surprise when Sam swung at him, a weak punch given they were both on their knees, but it connected with his cheek with enough force to hurt. "Fuck! What was that for?"  
  
"That thing nearly took you with it!" Sam ground out. "Of all the stupid-why didn't you shoot her sooner?"  
  
"I got her, Sam. That's what matters!" He looked towards the cat and they both recoiled as a flash of light emanated from the carcass and it burst into flames. Dean scrambled for the salt container, liberally salting the body just to be double sure.  
  
\--  
  
Sam pulled the Impala to a stop outside Michael's home. He turned and looked over his shoulder at the boy. He reached into his pocket for his wallet. "Here, take this." He handed Michael his card. "If you need anything, be sure and call us, okay?"  
  
"I will." Michael looked from Sam to Dean, who was slumped in the front passenger seat. "Will he be okay?"  
  
"Yeah, he's tired. Usually happens like that after a hunt. He'll be fine once he's had some sleep."  
  
Dean stirred a little, opening his eyes and turning around to smile at Michael. "You did good, tonight," he said. "You woulda made your uncle proud."  
  
"Thanks," Michael looked down at the card in his hands. "Thanks for coming here and helping me to-get that cat." He met Dean's eyes.   
  
"Now don't you go messin' in your uncle's journal until you're sure you're able to handle it," Dean cautioned.  
  
"Oh don't worry!" Michael grinned. "I'm not in any hurry to face anything like that again. Think I'll stick to poltergeists and wendigos."  
  
Sam smiled. "Take care, Michael." He watched as the boy got out of the car and made his way into the house. 'At least he's got a home to go to,' Sam thought as he put the car in gear and drove away.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could you whisper in my ear  
> The things you wanna feel  
> I'd give ya anythin'  
> To feel it comin'  
> Do you wake up on your own?  
> And wonder where you are  
> You live with all your faults  
> I wanna wake up where you are  
> I won't say anything at all  
> So why don't you slide  
> Yeah I'm gonna let it slide  
> Goo Goo Dolls - Slide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violence, horror blood and gore and non-consensual sexual activity. It is _not_ recommended to be read by anyone under 18 or with a history of sexual abuse of any form. Please do what you need to to stay safe.**

"Think the kid will be okay?" Sam kicked off his shoes as soon as he and Dean were inside the motel room. He took off his jacket and tossed it onto the back of a chair.  
  
"Yeah." Dean stumbled to the bed and lay down, fully clothed. "He's a born hunter. He'll be fine. Sam-I…"  
  
"I need a shower," Sam said. "You think you could find us something in here to eat?"  
  
Dean closed his eyes. "Yeah," he muttered. He rolled over onto his stomach on the bed as Sam went into the bathroom. 'I just need to close my eyes for a minute." Somewhere, he was vaguely aware of the sound of the shower starting.  _Just a minute. Man, that thing seemed to suck the strength right out of me._  He began to drift, flashes of disjointed images flickering through his mind. He saw the face of John Winchester, smiling, nodding to him.  _Good job, Dean_. "Dad…" He murmured.   
  
"Dean?" Sam's voice called from somewhere. "Did you hear what I said?"  
  
Dean pulled himself back to the surface with an effort. "Yeah-somethin' to eat," he replied. He dragged himself to his feet and was halfway across the room when Sam came out of the bathroom, a towel swathed around his hips, water running down over his shoulders and chest. Dean stopped in his tracks, staring at his brother. He swallowed hard.  
  
"You look wasted, dude," Sam told him.  
  
"I feel kinda-spacey." Dean agreed. "That thing-it touched me. I don't know, I mean it didn't get me physically," he added quickly as Sam took a step towards him. "It touched me-inside." He frowned. "You said it had enormous energy. I think it got it by suckin' it out of people it attacked. When it came at me I just felt-drained."  
  
"Hey, it's okay, Dean. It's gone. It can't hurt anyone ever again." Sam moved to take Dean in his arms, holding him close. "It's over."  
  
Dean moaned, nuzzling against Sam's chest, smelling warm, damp skin, he flicked his tongue out, tasting water and Sam and… "Need you, Sam," He whispered. "Need to feel you." He reached up, pulling Sam down to kiss him and a bolt of energy fired by passion raced through him. He growled against Sam's mouth and his fingers tightened convulsively when the younger Winchester tried to pull away. "Need you now!" He said roughly.  
  
"Hey, it's okay, Dean. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. No hurry, okay?  
  
His voice was suddenly an irritant and Dean growled again. "Shut up!" He shoved his brother hard, onto the bed and began to strip out of his clothes. "Don't say anything, don't move!" He pounced onto the bed, grabbing Sam's arms in a bruising grip staring into his brother's eyes which had grown wide and worried. "Don't fight me, Sammy, I don't wanna hurt you!"  
  
"What? No! Dean-look it's okay, you don't need to do this. Everything's okay…" Sam squirmed, trying to break his arms free. "That hurts, Dean, please…"  
  
"Sam, I said shut up," Dean rasped he leaned in and crushed Sam's mouth with his own. Blood thrummed in his veins and he caught the scent of fear from his brother's skin. It maddened him. He bit down on Sam's lips, tasting blood, catching the muffled groan from deep in Sam's throat.  
  
Sam sobbed, panting for breath as his brother's mouth finally tore away from his lips. He was scared. In all their times together, even if they'd not always been all that gentle, Dean had never seemed so deliberately intent on hurting him. He was pinned by the weight of Dean's body and his own fear, wriggling, he tried to gain some purchase on the bedding under him.   
  
"Hold  _still_!" Dean snarled, his mouth so close to Sam's face that he could feel the hot breath blowing against his lips. Dean's eyes had gone dark and cold and there was a dangerous edge to his voice.   
  
Sam went still, afraid to move or speak, afraid to breathe. He'd seen this, heard it all before on hunts, when Dean was closing in for the kill-he let his eyes slip closed and did his best to relax, anything it took to come out of this alive. He whimpered when he felt Dean shift above him before sharp teeth were nipping at the sensitive flesh of his throat.  _P_ _lease-god_ … He prayed silently not knowing what to ask for.  
  
  
He did his best to give his brother better access to his neck, tipping his head back slowly, eyes closed, tears edging from under his eyelids. He whimpered at a particularly hard bite, knowing that would mark him. He took a long breath.  _Relax, Sam_ , he told himself.  _T_ _his is Dean, this is Dean here, it'll be okay-it'll be okay, just play it cool._  He groaned helplessly when Dean reached down between them, wrapping his fingers around Sam's cock, stroking him.  
  
"You're so hot, Baby," a dark whisper from Dean and Sam had to bite back hard on a wave of nausea.   
  
He opened his eyes, looking into Dean's eyes, forcing a smile to his trembling lips. Maybe he could still reach Dean. "Always for you. You know that, don't you-you know I'm-I'm not going anywhere, it's just you and me, Dean, okay?"  
  
"Now, Sam!" Dean growled. He pushed Sam's thighs apart, kneeling back. His eyes were dark; almost black, the pupils blown so wide that Sam could barely see the iris. Sam sobbed, deadly afraid of his brother for the first time in his life. He cried out as Dean forced a finger only barely moistened with precum into him. He couldn't help the instinctive need to pull away.  
  
_Oh fuck_ , Sam thought as Dean forced a second finger into him. "Please, Dean…"  
  
"Shut UP!" Dean snarled and then he leaned forward, pulling Sam's legs onto his shoulders-he pushed into Sam with a growl, seeming not to hear or care about Sam's cry of pain.  
  
Sam fisted the quilt under him in both hands, tears spilling freely down over his cheeks, into his ears. "Oh God, help me…"  
  
Dean heard nothing but the roar of his own blood in his ears, felt nothing but raw lust and need, drawing some strange power from the heat of Sam's body under him. He cried out, thrusting once, twice before the hunger in him broke and he spilled his seed into Sam's body, sobbing as the darkness ebbed away and he collapsed onto Sam's chest.  
  
"Dean," Sam dared to stir just a little. His brother lay trembling on top of him, sobbing, seemingly oblivious to everything around him. Sam laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Let me up," he said brokenly. "I need to…Dean, I need to use the bathroom, okay?"  
  
Dean moaned a soft, broken sound and the tremors increased to shudders. He flinched when Sam spoke, reacting as though he'd been struck. He lifted his head and looked into Sam's eyes and then, with a strangled cry, scrambled backwards pulling away. He tumbled onto the floor.  
  
Dean pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them, burying his face against his arms. He sobbed, renewed tremors seizing him. He dimly heard Sam move off the bed and walk across the room, but he dare not look up. He couldn't bear to see the knowledge of what he had done in his brother's eyes. "God-fuck-god…" he whimpered. He flinched when he felt Sam's hand on his arm.   
  
"Dean?" Sam's voice, broken and small.  
  
"No-no…" Dean pulled away. He didn't want Sam's comfort. He didn't want his brother to touch him, hold him, tell him it was okay.   
  
"Hey don't," Sam whispered. "You're safe, okay?"  
  
"Sa-am…" He whispered brokenly. "Oh, God."  
  
"No, don't," Sam whispered. He pulled Dean's arms away from his face, made him lift his head, brushed the tears away with his fingertips. "I got you," he said.  
  
"Don't tell me that, Sammy." Dean pulled away from Sam's touch. "Don't make it okay. It's not okay! Don't forgive me, don't comfort me. Go away." He leaned against the wall, letting his head fall back while he wept. "I raped you!"  
  
"I'm okay."  
  
"You're not! I fucking raped you, Sam!"  
  
"Yeah, okay you did!" Sam suddenly flared with anger. "Now what? I know you Dean, you're always running-you gonna tell me you can't live with yourself so you'll leave me?" Tears welled from his eyes falling to the floor. "Selfish bastard!"  
  
"I'll go, if your want me to."  
  
Dean's words were greeted with hysterical laughter. "Oh sure, you'd like that, wouldn't you? That would make it so easy, you could run and hide and never have to face me, never have to face this, never have to deal."  
  
"Stop!" Dean got up on his knees, grabbing for Sam, who pulled away, scrambling backwards away from him. "Stop that, Sam!"  
  
"You'll go out there and find something that's gonna finish you-that would make things easy, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Well at least you wouldn't have to worry about being hurt anymore. You could go back to your normal life and forget about me. You could forget you ever had a dad, or a brother-go finish your fancy education and send flowers for my fucking funeral!"  
  
Sam looked up, meeting his eyes, sparks of anger and hurt flashing in the depths of his gaze. "Shut the fuck up, Dean! Okay? Just fucking shut up!"  
  
"Yeah, you'd like me to shut up? The truth hurt, little brother? I know you're just itchin' to get away from me!"  
  
"Oh yeah, go on, that's right! You just keep fuckin' telling yourself that, Dean-go right on in your sweet little world of self-pity!"  
  
"Oh fuck you! Fuck this!" Dean pushed to his feet, pacing the floor, still shaking with the effects of shock and anger. He glared at Sam when his brother got to his feet and blocked him.  
  
"What the fuck do you want from me, Dean? Want me to tell you to leave, is that it?"  
  
"Nothing-not a thing, Sammy, Absofuckinglutely zip, is what I want from you! Don't do me any favours."  
  
Sam made a small sound of rage and then he flew at Dean, fists flying. "Then you should've fucking thought of that before you just fucking took what you wanted! If you didn't want anything, then why? I would have given it up, if you wanted rough!"  
  
Dean blocked the blows, but made no attempt to fight back. "I don't know, I don't-I don't know." Dean sank to the floor, covering his head with his arms, not even attempting to ward off the blows that Sam rained on him.  
  
"Fight me, you bastard," Sam sobbed.  
  
"I I-c-can't, I won't, not anymore," Dean said as Sam joined him on the floor. "You oughta kill me. I wouldn't blame you."  
  
"Oh fuck! Spare me the fucking kill me now, speech, okay?" Sam snorted. "It's no fucking wonder Dad went off on his own. All that fucking self-pity woulda got him killed far sooner."  
  
Dean lunged at Sam, smashing the back of his hand against his brother's cheek. "You fucking shut your mouth! You don't know anything about what happened with Dad and me while you were gone!"  
  
Sam sneered, wiping blood from the corner of his lips. "Oh I can read between the lines, Dean. You're so seriously fucked up. All you ever wanted was for Daddy to say two little words. 'good boy.'"  
  
"At least I stuck with him!" Dean grabbed Sam's arms, shaking him. You wanna know somethin' you tore the heart and soul out of our family when you ran off to your fancy fucking school. Dad was never the same. I was…" He shook his head. "What would you fucking care, anyway." He shoved Sam from him with a curse.  
  
"Oh yeah, my fucking unforgivable crime was wanting a life that wasn't a breeding ground for hate! Is that so fucking hard to understand?"  
  
Dean bowed his head, let out a long breath. "Maybe you're right," he said softly.  
  
"I just wanted what all the other kids had-I wanted my dad to take me fishing, I wanted to play ball with my big brother-I wanted-I wanted a mom."  
  
Dean closed his eyes. "Maybe you shouldn't have come back. "It would all be over. Dad and I'd be dead if you stayed at Stanford. You know that? The demon would've wiped us out if you hadn't been there in the car, the only one conscious."  
  
"None of that matters, now, Dean. It's all past and can't be changed." Sam dashed tears from his face with the back of his hand. "It is how it is. You're all I've got, Dean. This war-every foothold we gain, takes a little piece of us with it." He closed his eyes with a small, bitter laugh. "You know the most fucked up thing? When I came to, the first thought I had was how pissed off you'd be about the car."  
  
Dean gulped, staring at his brother for a long beat of silence. He bit his lip, his brows pulled together in a frown. "I'm-sorry."  
  
"I can't live like this, Dean. I need you in a way that isn't normal-but then, we've never been the typical 'Waltons' type family."  
  
_I'm sorry for every day, every hour, every fucked up minute of our entire lives,_  Dean thought. "No," he said aloud. He looked into Sam's eyes. He watched as Sam got up, snagged his boxers from the floor and put them on. He shuddered, the cold fingers of memory touching him and he glanced towards the bed. "When we hunt-if we hunt, from now on, it's separate beds-separate rooms if we have to. Not going to do this again." He shook his head at the sad smile Sam gave him and looked away. "Don't look at me like that."  
  
Sam reached for him, grabbing him by the arm.  
  
"Don't tell me it's okay, Sam."  
  
"I'm not gonna," Sam said. "But we won't change the way we are together-it's all we have-it's what makes us stronger than anything the demon has ever dealt with."  
  
"I can deal, Sam-without that. I was doing okay before. He cast a glance at the duffel holding the weapons, thinking of the large bowie knife resting there.  
  
"What if I can't, Dean?"  
  
"You don't have to," Dean smiled a sad imitation of his usual smart assed grin. "It's my responsibility."  
  
"And what if we don't use each other the way we do? The one thing that makes us strong is also the one way they can break us." He pulled his brother to face him. "He'll have won."  
  
Dean shook his head. "This doesn't make us strong, Sam! Look at us!" He swallowed hard against a wave of nausea. "Oh god-I'm gonna…" Dean got up, bolting for the bathroom and dropped to his knees over the head, retching helplessly as tears streamed from his eyes. He got up after a while, moving to the vanity to splash cold water on his face. Stumbling to the bathroom door, he leaned on the frame, watching Sam who had moved to sit on the end of the bed. A faint, familiar itching sensation began to tingle through him and once more his eyes sought out the duffel. He bit his lip.  
  
Sam looked up. "I'm sore, Dean. It hurt, but it's us-we need to move past this, or he's won."  
  
Dean closed his eyes, his vision awash with dark red blood. He absently scratched, dragging his nails across the scars on his chest.  
  
"I can't begin to know what's with you," Sam murmured. "Ask me for what you need. Next time, just ask. I'll do it, whatever it takes."  
  
"Sam…" Dean said. "Blood, I need-I need to…"  
  
Sam nodded, got up, stepping past Dean into the bathroom. "I'll be here when you're done." He quietly closed the door.  
  
With a quiet sob, Dean went to the duffel, searching through it for the knife. "Where is it?" He growled in frustration unable to lay his hands on the knife, he turned away, rummaging in Sam's hold all for a smaller knife he knew his brother kept there. He closed his fingers around the handle, staring at the small blade as it flashed in the light. Dean bit his lip,  _where?_ The cut had to be made in the right place to ease the tingling itch. He closed his eyes, thinking and then opened them again focused on what he had to do. He gripped the handle tighter and drew a deep breath.  
  
\--  
  
Sam closed his eyes, letting the hot spray of the shower-his second in less than two hours-soothe away the physical ache from his body. The emotional and mental anguish would take more than water to wash away. He sighed, trying to push the thought of what his brother was doing, out of his mind.   
  
The water was hotter than he would normally have it, but Sam hardly cared. He pushed his head under the spray and then froze at a muffled sound from the other room. He was sure he'd heard Dean cry out. Shutting off the water with trembling hands, Sam bolted out of the shower. "Dean!"  
  
His blood ran cold as he threw the bathroom door open to see Dean kneeling on the floor, hunched over, a bloodied knife lying at his side. Dean had one hand pressed against his belly and thick, dark blood ran over his skin, pooling on his lap before trickling down to the floor. "Dean! What the fuck have you done? Show me!"  
  
Dean looked up; his face strained with pain and held out his bloodied hand, palm upwards, uncurling his fingers to reveal a deep, ragged gash across his hand.  
  
"Oh shit!" Relief flooded him. Sam dropped to his knees in front of his brother. "You scared me-thought you'd opened your gut!"  
  
"I'm not stupid!" Dean said.  
  
"Well, that's a matter for debate," Sam shook his head frowning over the wound. "C'mon, up. I need to get this bound."  
  
"No, Sam, let it bleed."  
  
"It's bled enough, now come on move, Dean or so help me, I'll whup your ass!"  
  
Dean snorted. "Oh yeah, I'd like to see you try. Even one handed I'm more than a match for you!" He grinned and Sam could see the real Dean in that smile.   
  
All the darkness seemed to have drained away with the blood flowing from his brother's hand. Sam couldn't understand it, never would, but if it brought Dean back to him-Sam sighed and pulled his brother to his feet.  
  
He guided Dean into the bathroom, quickly cleaning the cut with a wash cloth. "Damn you're lucky you didn't sever the tendon in your thumb, then what would you do? I can't see you as a swashbuckler with one hand behind your back."  
  
"Ah quit fussin' will ya? It's a scratch," Dean said.  
  
Sam shook his head. "Get your hand over the basin. You're bleeding all over my feet!"  
  
Dean closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sam. I never wanted to hurt you or scare you."  
  
"It's getting harder for you to control, Dean," Sam said. "I've known for a while. I'll do anything you need to help you find your way back, and if it comes to it, I'll make sure I'm prepped."  
  
"You could always try tyin' me down," Dean said.  
  
"And when I let you up?" Sam shook his head. "No, Dean, we both know this physical release is somethin' you need."  
  
"Not if it means hurting you!" Dean pulled his hand away with a grunt of pain. "Hey! That stings."  
  
"It's antiseptic, it's supposed to sting, quit crying and gimme your hand, I'm almost done."  
  
Dean relented and let Sam tend to his hand, watching as his brother wound a clean, gauze dressing around it. When it was done, Dean went into the bedroom, gathering up his clothes and starting to dress. "Pack up, Sam," he murmured. "We're gettin' outta this motel, outta this town-outta this fuckin' county. I don't care if I never see it or anyone in it again!"  
  
~fin~


End file.
